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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/25616983">The Polar Tang Clinic</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/eatP1/pseuds/eatP1'>eatP1</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>One Piece, 僕のヒーローアカデミア | Boku no Hero Academia | My Hero Academia</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Dabi is Todoroki Touya, Dabi is a Todoroki, Gen, Medical Inaccuracies, Medical Procedures, Ope Ope no Mi | Op-Op Fruit, Stabbing, Tired Trafalgar D. Water Law, Todoroki Enji | Endeavor's Bad Parenting, actually we're chucking canon down into hell, because a lot can change in five whole years</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>In-Progress</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-07-30</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2021-04-10</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-05 08:27:51</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Teen And Up Audiences</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>No Archive Warnings Apply</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>3</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>19,594</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/25616983</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/eatP1/pseuds/eatP1</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>Quirks are weird. The government is somehow worse than the WG.<br/>Law is tired.</p><p>or</p><p>Law gets thrown into the BNHA universe, sets up a clinic, sticks to the Hippocratic Oath and is owed so many favors that he could probably single-handedly stop the entire hero vs villain war if he pulled in all of them.</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Aizawa Shouta | Eraserhead &amp; Yamada Hizashi | Present Mic, Dabi &amp; Todoroki Shouto, Dabi &amp; Trafalgar D. Water Law</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>147</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>931</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>1. Prologue</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>In the backstreets and underworld of Kamino Ward, rumors circle of a strange little medical clinic. </p><p> </p><p>Nobody knows where it came from or how it got there; it simply appeared one day and started accepting patients. </p><p> </p><p>They say that the presiding doctor has dark circles under his eyes and a permanent scowl on his face, but boasts of incredible medical prowess. They say that everyone gets treated equally there, no matter if you’re a hero or a villain, rich or poor. They say that he accepts money when one has it, favors if one doesn’t, and that anyone who shirks their payment or breaks the rules will get kicked out no matter how powerful they are.</p><p> </p><p>The last one nobody believed until a rising gang leader got sliced into pieces and thrown out inside of a trash bag while still mysteriously alive. </p><p> </p><p>That instance rocketed his name to fame, and the dregs of society whispered his name in gratitude, reverence, and fear. </p><p>
  <br/>
  <br/>
</p><hr/><p>
  <br/>
  <br/>
  <br/>
</p><p>In the back rooms of the Polar Tang Clinic, Trafalgar D. Water Law sneezed.</p><p> </p><p>Huh.</p><p> </p><p>He must be catching a cold. </p><p> </p><p>After thinking about it for a moment, he shook his head and shrugged before continuing onto the next surgery. </p><p> </p><p>Appendicitis on a pregnant patient requires his attention urgently. He’ll get around to fixing that broken thermostat later. </p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0002"><h2>2. Dabi</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>Dabi meets a strange doctor and two lonely souls find a friend.</p>
          </blockquote><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>This takes place five years before canon, so Dabi is 19 and Law is 22.</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <em>The last thing he saw was Mugiwara-ya reaching out for him. He failed, but he hoped that the Strawhat Pirates could perform yet another miracle. </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em> Law drifted in the black void after he got hit by the devil fruit powers of one of Doflamingo’s henchmen. His senses had deserted him, leaving him only with his failures and his thoughts.  </em>
</p><p> </p><p><em> He miscalculated. Doflamingo had another lieutenant that Law didn’t know about. He lost both his life and, more importantly, the Ope-Ope no Mi due to that mistake </em>.</p><p> </p><p>
  <em> The fruit would cause a war again, and the overgrown bird would no doubt win. </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <b> <em>He failed Cora-san. </em> </b>
</p><p> </p><p><em> As he drifted and drifted, Law wallowed in his self-hatred and misery. He knew that there was no use. After all, he couldn’t go back anymore. However, the negative emotions were the only things keeping him company and reminding him that he wasn’t a part of the void. They were the only things that kept him as </em> <b> <em>Law</em> </b> <em> instead of </em> <b> <em>nothingness</em> </b> <em> . </em></p><p> </p><p>
  <em> Until he suddenly felt the sensation of a brick wall behind his back.  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em> It was dry and solid. Law immediately latched on to the feeling and used it to ground his floating consciousness. However, it didn’t make sense. He died. Why was there a brick wall? </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em> It didn’t take much thought. He had never believed in God or a higher being, but there was only one explanation that made sense. </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <b>So the afterlife is real after all.  </b>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em> In increments, Law’s hearing came back next, and he heard the noise of a bustling street, although it seemed to come from far away. The sound echoed strangely as if his head was underwater. </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <b>Maybe he would see his parents and Lami here.</b>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em> After what seemed like a few minutes, Law’s hearing became clearer, and, slowly, he could pick out individual conversations on the street. Some were talking about clothes, some were talking worriedly about someone named All Might, while others were talking about topics that Law did not know of at all.  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em> There was one loud voice in particular that attracted his attention. The shrill pitch of a little girl shouted excitedly at her parents.  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em> “Mommy! Look!” </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em> Another voice, which Law assumed to be her mother’s, answered. “You got your quirk sweetie. That’s awesome.” </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <b> <em>Quirk?</em> </b>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em> “Can I be a hero? I wanna be a hero! Like, like… Like All Might!” </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <b> <em>All Might? A hero?</em> </b>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <b> <em>W h e r e a m I ?</em> </b>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em> The surgeon’s senses of smell and taste came back simultaneously and abruptly. He knew after he took a deep breath and immediately regretted it. </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em> Piss. The place where he sat smelled of piss, vomit, and other unsavory smells. With all of this sensory overload, he was starting to believe that he would wake up in a filthy alleyway.  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <b> <em>Are there supposed to be filthy alleyways in the afterlife? Considering who enters, maybe.</em> </b>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <b> <em>At least it’s better than corpses.</em> </b>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em> Finally, Law’s sight came back. His eyes snapped open… And he stared. He shot up to his feet and realized two things.  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em> One, he was indeed sitting in a filthy, unsanitary alleyway.  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em> Two, he wasn’t dead.  </em>
</p><p>
  <br/>
  <br/>
</p><p> </p><hr/><p>
  <br/>
  <br/>
  <br/>
  <br/>
</p><p>Dabi had been living on the streets for four years.</p><p> </p><p>Ever since he ripped his way out of the body bag where his father had left him to rot, he became just another one of the nameless, homeless people shivering under the bridge, sheltering under cardboard boxes, and occasionally squatting in shitty apartments. He dived into dumpsters, raided drop boxes, and stole bentos from the convenience store. All the while he looked upwards to the glamorous world from which he had fallen from grace. </p><p> </p><p>
  <em> Once upon a time, the thought of petty crime would have never crossed his mind. Once upon a time, he still had delusions of grandeur and dreamed of becoming a hero. But as the years passed, the dreams became nightmares and from the nightmares came hell and by the time he had woken up, his father had personally burned all of those fantasies into cinders.  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>The patchwork man slouched and yanked his hood tightly over his face as he wandered through the crowds. He looked like a delinquent teenager with his all-black attire, slouched posture, and visible piercings, which drew frowns of disapproval from the surrounding people. </p><p> </p><p>He didn’t care. It was less annoying than the stares of horror that followed him whenever he straightened his back and went without the hood. </p><p> </p><p>As he was trudging through, idly looking at all of the window displays, one particular windowfront caught his eye. It belonged to a toy store, and the theme of the display was heroes. Dolls of smiling heroes in the top ten surrounded a large, stuffed tyrannosaur, all paired with onomatopoeia in classic superhero comic font. There was All Might, the weird washing machine, Yoroi Musha… and of course, Endeavor. </p><p> </p><p>Dabi walked over, peered at the Endeavor doll, and scowled. The staples on his face shifted and stretched painfully. One of the staples finally could not take the abuse on his scars any longer and popped out, leaving a flap of skin dangling from the corner of his mouth and showing the pink muscle underneath. </p><p> </p><p>“Shit…” </p><p> </p><p>Glaring furiously at the offending staple lying innocently on the dusty concrete, he stomped on it a few times to release his petty anger. Part of it was that he had used up all of his staples a few days before. Part of it was the Endeavor doll. </p><p> </p><p>The smile on the doll, which looked natural to the manufacturers, seemed so twisted and fake. In Dabi's nineteen years of living, he had never seen his father smile. All he had seen in that household were screams, beatings, terror, and broken things. Broken bones, broken smiles, broken souls, broken spirits. </p><p> </p><p>Failure. </p><p> </p><p><em>Fa</em><b><em>i</em></b><em>lu</em><b><em>r</em></b><em>e F</em><b><em>ai</em></b><em>l</em><b><em>ur</em></b><em>e </em><b><em>Fai</em></b><em>l</em><b><em>ure</em></b> <b><em>Failure</em></b> <b><em>FaIluRe FAIlURe FAIlURE FAILURE</em></b></p><p> </p><p>He gritted his teeth hard and felt another staple fall. </p><p> </p><p>
  <em> Plink. </em>
</p><p> </p><p>He looked down. The staple had a red tinge and the edges were smoking. </p><p> </p><p>This couldn’t go on. He couldn’t lose control of his emotions in such a crowded place. He couldn’t afford to get caught by the bastard. </p><p> </p><p>Turning around, he strode resolutely into the dark alleyway beside the store. </p><p>
  <br/>
  <br/>
</p><p>
  <b>ooOoo</b>
</p><p>
  <br/>
  <br/>
</p><p>At five in the morning, all of his remaining staples emitted smoke and he nearly felt frustrated enough to rip out his hair. </p><p> </p><p>Only nearly.</p><p> </p><p>He had been walking around Kamino Ward for the past four hours while looking for a place where he could steal some surgical staples. The result? No store had any.</p><p> </p><p>And he had already broken into six.</p><p> </p><p>Growling and digging his nails into his scalp, he thought to find yet another store when he noticed the sign out of the corner of his eye. There, hanging precariously over what seemed to be an abandoned, once fancy three-story apartment building, was a hand-painted wooden board that read <em> The Polar Tang Clinic </em> . A piece of paper bearing the words <em> All Are Welcome </em>with a smiley face fluttered cheerily in the nighttime (or is it early morning time?) breeze from its position taped onto the door. </p><p> </p><p>Dabi looked at it in disbelief and then snorted.</p><p> </p><p>“...Is this an actual clinic? How fucking shadier could it look?”</p><p> </p><p>Thanks, but he didn’t want to be trafficked and sold as a sex slave to a fat, wrinkly, ugly-ass old man.</p><p> </p><p>He almost decided to pass it up and was already thinking of the route to another store when the lightening sky reminded him of the facts.</p><p> </p><p>There weren’t many places that lacked security cameras. The closest store in such a place was too far away to reach before dawn and there was no way he could get away with breaking in as easily during the day. He had used up almost all of his bandages, ointments, and rubbing alcohol, and he needed the staples urgently in fear that the skin and exposed muscle on his face would get infected.</p><p> </p><p>He looked around the so-called ‘clinic’. No cameras.</p><p> </p><p>Good.</p><p> </p><p>No matter how much the clinic looked like the front of a human trafficking ring, this was the last place he could break in before the next day. If he passed it up now, he could only wait until tomorrow night for any hope of getting staples and alcohol. Who knows if his wounds would be infected by then.</p><p> </p><p>He made up his mind. The place didn’t even have cameras. No one will know. He’ll just go in, check it out, and get out.</p><p>
  <br/>
  <br/>
</p><p>
  <b>ooOoo</b>
</p><p>
  <br/>
  <br/>
</p><p>Activating his quirk for light, he picked his way through the area. Thankfully, although nobody would have thought it on the streets, the interior of the building was a lot less rundown than the outside. While the carpet had some suspicious stains and he could still see some mold and graffiti, someone had recently given an effort to clean things up.</p><p> </p><p>After entering the door and climbing up a flight of stairs, he arrived at the main corridor… and did a double-take. Plastic lawn chairs lined the walls. A sad and droopy looking plant sat at one of the corners while an impressive cat tree sat at another. At the end of the hallway, a desk stood with a silver service bell sitting on top. There was a piece of paper next to the bell that states to ring for the reception.</p><p> </p><p>He decidedly doesn’t ring it. </p><p> </p><p>But that wasn’t what made him do a double-take. Disregarding the strange presence of the lawn chairs, the corridor looked as if whoever decorated it just threw a hodgepodge of necessities together without caring for aesthetics. The color of the walls that looked to be covered in poop clashed with the multicolored neon lawn chairs, while the plant and the cat tree seemed like the depressed bystanders in an abstract painting gone wrong. </p><p> </p><p>It looked… <strike>awfulhorrifyingdisgustinghellishwasthedecoratorblind</strike> <em> unique </em>.</p><p> </p><p>He gaped in utter shock for a while before swearing and turning away. The… <em> unique </em>taste in interior decor was almost petrifying enough for him to attempt arson. </p><p> </p><p>Almost. </p><p> </p><p>
  <strike> The atrocity was almost horrifying enough to make him gauge out his eyeballs and suffer a brain aneurysm. </strike>
</p><p> </p><p>Crouching down, he collected himself and tried to recover from the massive shock to his visual cortex. </p><p> </p><p><em> Breathe in. Look up and concentrate on a lawn chair. Breathe out. Now look around and think about finding the </em> <b> <em>staples </em> </b> <em> and the </em> <b> <em>bandages</em> </b> <em> . </em></p><p> </p><p>He stood up, feeling a bit better, and tried to analyze the search area.</p><p> </p><p>From the outside, the building had three floors. Standing in the hallway, he could see four doors. That means three floors with four apartments on each floor. After doing the math and assuming the worst-case scenario, that equals a fuck ton of space to sort through. Where on earth does the damn doctor (if they even are a doctor) keep their supplies?</p><p> </p><p>He was just about to say fuck it and enter a random door when he heard it.</p><p> </p><p>Thump.</p><p> </p><p>Whirling around to face where he thought the sound came from, he made both of his hands burst into flames while he shifted his stance to guard against an attack.</p><p> </p><p>Thuuuuuump.</p><p> </p><p>The sound seemed to be coming from one of the apartments. Dabi stared at the black door with raised, golden numbers.</p><p> </p><p>103.</p><p> </p><p>Two meters, eleven o'clock direction.</p><p> </p><p>Thumpity thump.</p><p> </p><p>Dodging an acid green lawn chair, he deactivated his quirk in one of his hands and inched forward while the door continued to emit noise. </p><p> </p><p>Did someone live here? Could it be an actual apartment building and the board that says ‘Clinic’ in front be just a prank? Maybe he should leave while he still can.</p><p> </p><p>But he needed those staples.</p><p> </p><p>
  <em> Screeeeeeeech! </em>
</p><p> </p><p>Jolting back, he winced at the fingernails-over-chalkboard-esque sound. It sounded like some deranged, dying person was dragging themselves across a blood-splattered ground and clawing at the door to escape their tormentor. </p><p> </p><p>Fuck his imagination. </p><p> </p><p>… He kind of regretted his decision by now.</p><p> </p><p>By then, Dabi had reached the door. Deactivating his quirk, he grasped the golden doorknob in his hand and twisted. <em> Unlocked </em>.</p><p> </p><p>Ripping it open and hands poised to attack, his eyes darted around wildly only to find… nothing.</p><p> </p><p>Then something rubbed against his leg.</p><p> </p><p>Biting back a scream, his neck snapped down fast enough to give him whiplash. He saw a blur of white around his ankles and almost jumped out of his skin. Maybe it <em> is </em> a deranged person who has never seen the light of day. If that’s the case, then he’s about to set the area around him on <em> fire </em>, consequences be damned.</p><p> </p><p>His vision cleared up before he had the chance to launch a fireball, letting him see just what had brushed against his leg. And he saw a massive, fluffy, pure white Maine Coon glaring grumpily at him.</p><p> </p><p>He stared at the cat.</p><p> </p><p>The cat stared back.</p><p> </p><p>Then, after it had nearly scared him to pieces, it had the <em> audacity </em> to fucking <em> chirp </em>.</p><p> </p><p>It was like the damn cat had just said, “Fuck you, you wannabe murderer.”</p><p> </p><p>In response, Dabi deactivated his quirk, glared harder, and flipped it off. “Fuck you too, you shit cat.”</p><p> </p><p>The cat just looked even more disgruntled. It turned around and stalked off back into the apartment with its shaggy tail held high and butthole pointing at him. A clear dismissal if he had ever seen one.</p><p> </p><p>He huffed and turned away. The damn cat could do what it wants. If the door of this apartment was any indication, most of the doors in the building would be unlocked. All he needed to do was to find the staples, the disinfectant, and the bandages, and get out. </p><p> </p><p>After the cat disappeared into the depths of the apartment somewhere, he stepped through the doorway as well to look around. Walking into what looked like an empty living room, he couldn’t help but doubt, again, if the place was a clinic. </p><p> </p><p>
  <em> Even if the clinic was refurbished from an apartment building, doesn’t this place look too much like an apartment? It’s like someone could walk in, bring some furniture, and live here at any moment. At least it didn't look as if anyone had been inhabiting the place recently. </em>
</p><p> </p><p><em> But then where did the cat come from? </em> </p><p> </p><p>Shaking his head, he decided that he would just go to the bathroom. If the supplies that he needed were there, then he’ll take them. If they’re not, then he’ll high-tail it out of here. This shady place was seriously making him suspicious.</p><p>
  <br/>
  <br/>
</p><p>
  <b>ooOoo</b>
</p><p>
  <br/>
  <br/>
</p><p>It took several doors until he reached the restroom, before which he had accidentally entered the laundry room, the kitchen, and a bedroom. Seeing these places heightened his suspicions that something was off. </p><p> </p><p>It wasn’t obvious. The apartment could have been any one of the shitty places he had previously squatted in. </p><p> </p><p>It was the cat. The cat threw everything off. </p><p> </p><p>The place <em> could </em> be a clinic, even if you could excuse the… unique interior decor outside. The lawn chairs and the semi-healthy plant suggested that someone or multiple someones had been here recently, and the overall emptiness of the apartment gave the vibe that all previous tenants had been kicked out and that nobody was currently living here until everything had been successfully renovated into patient rooms and such.</p><p> </p><p>But the cat was <em> in </em> the apartment, <em> behind </em> the door. There was no way that a random stray cat would be living in an apartment building. </p><p> </p><p>He shook his head again and sighed as he stared down the bathroom closet. He’s just going to be in and out. Nobody’s here. Even if somebody was here, it’s unlikely that they’re going to wake up and catch him at five in the morning. Everything’s okay and under control.</p><p> </p><p>With that, he started to rummage around. Tylenol, band-aids, weird herbal paste in a jar… </p><p> </p><p>He had just gotten his hands on a bottle of rubbing alcohol and a box of gauze when he heard a thud that was too heavy to be a cat from another part of the apartment. Cursing, he hurriedly closed the closet door and hunkered down into the bathtub, closing the shower curtain behind himself as he went. As he stayed still and prayed that the person would just go past the bathroom, he silently chided himself for his earlier naivety.</p><p> </p><p>What the hell was he thinking? He should have noped his ass out of there the moment he saw that stupid sign.</p><p> </p><p>Footsteps. Dabi could hear the other man’s (the voice was too gravelly and low for the other person not to be biologically male) mumbling.</p><p> </p><p>“Oi, Kumajiro? Where are you going? ...Even if you want my attention, don’t park your ass on my face.”</p><p> </p><p>Dabi’s first thought was<em> Huh? Cats do that? </em></p><p> </p><p>And after a moment, <em> He named his fluffy demon monstrosity </em> <b> <em>polar bear</em> </b> <em> ? I mean, I can see where it came from…  </em></p><p> </p><p>The footsteps stopped, but when the other man was still walking, he sounded disturbingly close to the *empty* bathroom.</p><p> </p><p><em> Please walk past the bathroom. </em> <b> <em>Please </em> </b> <em> don’t come to the bathroom. </em></p><p> </p><p>“... Why are you going to the bathroom, you damn cat? There’s no food there.”</p><p> </p><p>
  <em> Damn it.  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>The light turned on. He was certain that the owner of the apartment was standing at the doorway, squinting their eyes at the light and looking around at the (supposedly) empty bathroom. In the bathtub, clutching his borrowed gauze and alcohol, he held his breath and tried to slow his heartbeat while frantically thinking of anything that he might have missed while cleaning up his tracks. He had closed the closet door, and he hadn’t left any traces as far as he could remember. </p><p> </p><p>Except for the shower curtain. It was originally open, and Dabi had closed it in his endeavor to better hide in the bathtub.</p><p> </p><p>At this point, he could only pray that the other man would be too sleepy to look around closely or remember such mundane details as the opening and closing of shower curtains. </p><p> </p><p>With some luck, maybe the other guy would just go away and he could sneak out later. Luck hadn’t always been on his side before, but maybe this would be the exception.</p><p> </p><p>Then a mass of white fur sat on his face. </p><p> </p><p>
  <em> Yeah, luck hates me. </em>
</p><p> </p><p>It was the cat, Dabi realized. Kumajiro. It had just slipped around the shower curtain and parked its ass on his face.</p><p> </p><p>After the shock wore off, he struggled to rein in his urge to just throw the demonic cat as far away as possible (which probably wouldn’t be more than two meters considering how thin he was). However, he soon realized that he had more pressing matters facing him.</p><p> </p><p>He couldn’t breathe through the fur, he realized. He couldn’t breathe. The sides of the porcelain bathtub suddenly seemed too small, too close, pressing into him until his breath started to stutter and he felt like he would die.</p><p> </p><p><em> A massive hand choked him. He tried to struggle and breathe, but he was so tired. </em> <b> <em>So tired</em> </b> <em> . Around them, red and orange flames licked up the remains of the dojo. The air burned hot and he could feel it on every patch of his ruined skin.  </em></p><p> </p><p>
  <em> The hand released him and he fell heavily onto the burnt floor. “Get up boy,” he vaguely hears his father yelling. “You’re too weak. Again!” </em>
</p><p> </p><p>The scene in Dabi’s memories started to intrude upon reality until he could hear the crackling of flames, smell the scent of burning flesh, and feel the strength and searing heat of the hand that had rested on his raw and tender skin. He barely recognized the weight that suddenly disappeared off his face and the subsequent displeased meow. He barely recognized the clatter of links as the shower curtain was opened and the raspy voice that urged him to just <em> breathe </em>. He barely recognized the pinch in his arm. All he could see was the pain, the burning, and the harsh words of his father that was part of his hellish training. </p><p> </p><p>
  <em> How many minutes passed, he didn’t know, but he was just so tired. </em>
</p><p> </p><p>When the darkness started creeping in at the edges of his vision, Dabi just let himself fall.</p><p>
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  <b>ooOoo</b>
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</p><p>Law was having a bad morning.</p><p> </p><p>Yesterday, he had finally finished cleaning up the abandoned apartment building and he was so exhausted and sleep-deprived that he collapsed onto his bed. If it wasn’t for Kumajiro waking him up via the butt-in-face maneuver at <em> five in the goddamn morning </em>, he would have stayed comatose for the entire day. </p><p> </p><p>Grumbling, he shoved his cat over to the other side of the bed before he attempted to flip over onto his stomach and fall back asleep.</p><p> </p><p>That was a mistake.</p><p> </p><p>He forgot that he had barely managed to reach the bed in his exhausted, half-asleep stupor yesterday, and so there was only a tiny sliver of space between him and the edge.</p><p> </p><p>In other words, with a loud thump, Law fell off of the bed face first and landed on his nose.</p><p> </p><p>The impact to his lungs made all of the air inside whoosh out and he laid there, face down on the carpet, in a daze. The possibility that his nose might be broken only occurred to him after the pressure on it caused a stabbing pain that traveled throughout his body. With a curse, he quickly sat up and felt for any lumps. Thankfully, nothing seemed to be out of place and no blood streamed out. After a few moments, all that he felt from the fall was the jolt and the ache that told him there would be bruises to be found before the next day.</p><p> </p><p>Beside him, Kumajiro sat and observed with inquisitive eyes.</p><p> </p><p>“This is all your fault,” Law told him matter-of-factly.</p><p> </p><p>The cat only chirped, whether in agreement or disagreement Law didn’t know, and stalked out of the master bedroom. Occasionally, he looked back at Law, as if the cat wanted Law to follow.</p><p> </p><p>Law sighed and trailed after him, not even bothering to put on a shirt. Besides following the cat, it wasn’t like he had anything better to do at <em> five in the goddamned morning </em> . <strike> Heavens, he was still so salty about that. </strike></p><p> </p><p>It wasn’t even like this kind of thing hadn’t happened before. The demonic cat had a nasty habit of waking him up at shitty hours of the morning only to lead him to the kitchen and beg for food. At approximately fifty percent brain function, Law was already thinking about the fastest way to walk over, open a can of tuna, walk back, and crash onto his bed to, <em> hopefully </em>, sleep for a few more hours.</p><p> </p><p>It wasn’t until Law had walked behind the cat to the empty living room area, in a direction decidedly <em> opposite </em> the one to the kitchen, that he finally woke up completely and wondered, <em> where the hell is the cat going? </em></p><p> </p><p>He decided to voice his concerns. “Oi, Kumajiro. Where are you going?”</p><p> </p><p>Kumajiro only gave a half-hearted <em> mrrrr </em>and slanted his eyes at the surgeon, as if saying, “Shut up, peasant, and follow.”</p><p> </p><p>A ridiculous thought suddenly occurred to Law.</p><p> </p><p>
  <em> … Did Kumajiro just want attention? If so…  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>“Even if you want my attention, don’t park your ass on my face.”</p><p> </p><p>The cat didn’t even bother to respond.</p><p> </p><p>
  <em> Guess that's wrong then. </em>
</p><p> </p><p>The lack of furniture seemed to lengthen distances between the rooms. Dancing shadows gave a tunnel-like quality, and Kumajiro's white fur made the cat look like a wraith flitting in the darkness. When the wraith entered the restroom, however, Law gave pause. </p><p> </p><p>Unless someone had started storing food inside the bathroom without Law's knowledge, there was no reason for Kumajiro to suddenly take an interest.</p><p> </p><p>Entering the bathroom as well, he flipped on the lights just in time to see the cat slip inside the bathtub.</p><p> </p><p>… But Kumajiro hated the bathtub.</p><p> </p><p>
  <em> There was something inside the bathtub. </em>
</p><p> </p><p>Immediately on guard, Law inched forward, the telltale swirl that signaled a Room at the ready underneath his hand. While he couldn’t slice the intruder into pieces without Kikoku, he still had other close-range techniques. A Counter Shock to the chest would knock out anyone for a while. Even if the intruder was a non-hostile, he could neutralize them by inducing nausea with repeated Shambles.</p><p> </p><p>Reaching his destination, he ripped open the shower curtain to see his cat sitting on the face of an unhealthily skinny man. Fearing that the other male didn’t have the strength to lift all twenty pounds of cat, Law immediately hauled Kumajiro up, ignoring the annoyed meow. Shooing the cat away, he turned back and got his first glimpse of the intruder’s face. </p><p> </p><p>As a seasoned doctor in the Grand Line, Law had seen many horrendous injuries. However, the condition of this man had to be one of the worst.</p><p> </p><p>An expanse of rejected skin grafts spanned underneath the eyes, the entirety of the jaw and mouth area, and disappeared into the neckline. He could see other patches of skin grafts peeking out underneath the sleeves of the other man’s shirt and his pants. The build of the man indicated prolonged undernutrition, which introduced the possibility of an additional set of problems. </p><p> </p><p>Looking closer, he observed that the skin grafts and the healthy skin were held by countless unprofessionally done medical staples. A few of the staples had popped out around the mouth area, and Law could see the pink flesh and muscle underneath. So preoccupied was Law by the horrific state of the patient’s health that he initially missed the man’s dilated pupils and his stuttering breaths.</p><p> </p><p>Professionally, Law was a surgeon. He wasn’t a psychologist or a psychiatrist, but he had experienced so many dissociative episodes during the aftermath of Flevance and the death of Cora-san that he knew all of the symptoms by heart.</p><p> </p><p>However, that didn’t mean he knew how to help anyone else during a breakdown. Other than telling them to breathe, that is.</p><p> </p><p>With no other options, Law had to sedate the patient. Gradually, the man stopped trembling and his breath evened out. Breathing a sigh of relief, he slowly stood up and looked down at his first patient since arriving in this other world. </p><p> </p><p>“... I probably shouldn’t leave him in the bathtub.”</p><p>
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  <b>ooOoo</b>
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</p><p>Dabi woke up not knowing where he was.</p><p> </p><p>Sunlight streamed in through a window on his right, the light shining upon drab gray walls. He was laying on top of a foreign bed, the only piece of furniture in the room. While there was the initial panic, Dabi also felt better than he had in a long time. His scars didn’t itch or hurt, he didn’t experience any pain in his joints, and he felt so relaxed that he imagined himself sinking into the mattress.</p><p> </p><p>“You’re awake,” a raspy voice drawled on his left. </p><p> </p><p>Dabi jolted, suddenly recalling the events that happened in the morning (or is it the night before?). He tried to turn on his side and call up his fire, only for hands to push him back into the bed. A young(ish?) face with scruffy black hair, a goatee, and a scowl came into view. </p><p> </p><p>After making sure that Dabi would stay still, the other man sat on a stool that had been pulled up to the side of the bed. Turning his head, Dabi could see the other’s full appearance. He wore gray pajamas with white, spotted trim, although the top was unbuttoned as if he had hastily donned it. His exposed chest featured a massive, stylized, heart-shaped tattoo. More tattoos were inked on the back of his hands, and black letters appeared on each of his knuckles.</p><p> </p><p>Dabi mentally groaned. Somehow, he had managed to break into the home of a yakuza. </p><p> </p><p>“Don’t move,” the yakuza griped. “You’ll tear your new skin grafts…………………….”</p><p> </p><p>Dabi panicked so much after hearing the words ‘skin grafts’, that he missed the rest of the message. <em> Is this a hospital? I need to leave. </em> <b> <em>He’s</em> </b> <em> going to find me and </em> <b> <em>I don’t have the fucking money to pay hospital bills—</em> </b></p><p> </p><p>“There’s no bill,” said the other man, shocking Dabi’s thoughts into silence. </p><p> </p><p>
  <em> … Huh? </em>
</p><p> </p><p>His confusion must have shown on his face because the black-haired man simply rubbed his tired eyes and continued patiently, albeit slowly and lazily. “You broke into my clinic at five o’clock this morning. Out of all the apartments you could have chosen to go into, you somehow chose the apartment that I lived in. I found you having a dissociative breakdown in my bathtub and I sedated you to calm you down. Once you fell asleep, I immediately started operating on your skin grafts. I replaced the rejected grafts on your face and neck with sheet grafts and the ones elsewhere with mesh grafts. To keep everything in place, I bandaged your entire body. However, since your burns were so extensive and you have so little healthy skin left, strict bed rest and no movement for at least a week during the process of healing. My… quirk can't do anything to speed it up. Understand?”</p><p> </p><p>Dabi gave a slight nod, although he noted the slight hesitation on the word ‘quirk’. The other man continued.</p><p> </p><p>“My clinic isn’t technically legal, so we aren’t in a legally binding doctor-patient relationship. Nevertheless, the illegality of my clinic also means that it is free from government influence. As I am not on the government’s radar, I can choose to be indiscriminate with my patients. Whether they are rich or poor, hero or villain, they are all human and the Hippocratic Oath applies to them all. If they have money, I’ll take the money. If they don’t have money, I’ll take favors, food, supplies, whatever.”</p><p> </p><p>Dabi again nodded slowly. The questionable legality of the clinic explained all of the abnormalities that he saw, although he now thought that the other man was a scammer. Everything sounded way too good to be true.</p><p> </p><p>He was bolting the first chance that he got.</p><p> </p><p>"You'll be staying here for four months healing your grafts. Strict bed rest and no movement during the first two weeks and light exercise the rest of the time. I'll hook you up to a catheter and manually inject nutrients and water into your stomach. Don't feel like it's humiliation; your body will reject the graft if anything is moved. If you so much as move a muscle, I will employ countermeasures”</p><p> </p><p>Dabi gave hums and yesses at the right moments, planning his escape and not quite listening. However, the harsh countermeasures statement at the end of the spiel drew his attention.</p><p> </p><p>“What type of countermeasures?” asked Dabi, trying to sound curious but mostly intending to probe the other man’s strength.</p><p> </p><p>With a sigh and a mutter of something about a man named Mugiwara-ya, the doctor began to explain.</p><p> </p><p>“My Dev—my quirk is called Operation. After making an operating room, I can control everything within it. Including this.”</p><p> </p><p>The scruffy-haired man suddenly stood up to his full height and pulled out a massive longsword—<em> an odachi, he remembered </em> —from nowhere. After holding out his hand, he uttered the word <em> ‘Room’ </em>. A swirl of air appeared underneath it which quickly turned into a transparent blue bubble surrounding Dabi, the doctor, and the bed. With a single move, the other man drew his sword and slashed two times. Half a second had barely passed and Dabi’s body was already split into thirds.</p><p> </p><p>Out of reflex, his eyes snapped shut and he almost activated his flames. Before he could do that, however, a calm voice broke through the haze of panic.</p><p> </p><p>“You’re not dead.”</p><p> </p><p>Dabi thought the man had gone mad. <em> What do you mean ‘I’m not dead’?! You sliced me into thirds! I’m bleeding out, I can’t feel my legs, my internal organs are severed and…  </em></p><p> </p><p>
  <em> Wait. </em>
</p><p> </p><p>Although he just got dismembered, Dabi didn’t feel like he was dying in any way. No pain, no blood, he could even feel the texture of the bedsheets underneath his legs. Which was impossible.</p><p> </p><p>Did the blade… Miss?</p><p> </p><p>He cautiously opened his eyes and looked down. His body was still severed into three parts. However, a pitch-black film covered what should have been open wounds. His body still felt connected to each other, but when he tried to move, he found that he couldn’t.</p><p> </p><p>
  <em> I’m… Not dead. </em>
</p><p> </p><p>So that’s what countermeasures had meant. Quirks really can do anything these days.</p><p> </p><p>Dabi also gave up his plan of escaping. When his opponent was a long-range fighter and had such a powerful quirk, his flames wouldn’t do anything to help. In fact, the other’s quirk directly countered his. Might as well mooch off the doctor for four months.</p><p> </p><p>The blue bubble flickered away.</p><p> </p><p>“Do you understand?” asked the other man while having direct eye contact with Dabi. </p><p> </p><p>“Yes.” </p><p> </p><p>The display of powers was a demonstration and a threat. He understood that he would have to obey the black-haired man’s every order while staying with him.</p><p> </p><p>“Good,” nodded the doctor. He moved around the bed and rejoined Dabi’s body parts. After he made sure that everything was in order, the doctor made his way back and sat on his stool again. There was a pause as he collected his thoughts. </p><p> </p><p>“You are also severely undernourished. You have signs of multiple vitamin and mineral deficiencies, including vitamin C, iron, zinc, and iodine. In the following weeks, I will inject liquid nutrients and water into your stomach. However, to do that, I need your stomach. Do you give consent?”</p><p> </p><p>Dabi didn’t understand if ‘needing his stomach’ was some sort of code for something else. Nevertheless, he couldn’t give anything other than consent.</p><p> </p><p>“<em> Room </em>.” </p><p> </p><p>The shimmering blue bubble appeared again. Yet, this time the doctor turned his hand over and flicked his index finger as if directing the movements of an orchestra. </p><p> </p><p>“<em> Takt </em>.”</p><p> </p><p> While he couldn’t move, Dabi felt his body float upwards until he was about thirty centimeters above the bed. Apparently, this height was satisfactory for the doctor because he then rolled up his sleeves and struck Dabi’s stomach with an open palm.</p><p> </p><p>“<em> Mes </em>.”</p><p> </p><p>Dabi didn’t feel any different, but the doctor retrieved something from underneath his body before lowering him and dispelling the bubble.</p><p> </p><p>“What did you do to me?” Dabi asked curiously. It was obvious that the doctor did <em> something </em> to him, although he couldn’t sense what it was.</p><p> </p><p>In response, the other man only held up an object. </p><p> </p><p>Dabi didn’t know whether to cringe in revulsion or stare in fascination. It was his stomach, still churning and working eerily while enclosed in a translucent barrier. Suddenly, the doctor’s previous statement made literal sense.</p><p> </p><p>“I’m keeping your stomach for two reasons,” the doctor stated. “One, I need it to inject nutrients during the following week. Two, it’s a hostage—”</p><p> </p><p>“WHAT? FUCK YOU!” </p><p> </p><p>Dabi’s emotions made a volatile one-eighty, but the statement had stabbed him directly in one of his weak spots. He was <em> sick </em> of people trying to control him. First, it was his shitty old man. Now, this uppity doctor was trying to control him by keeping his organ hostage. <em> Who does he think he is?  </em></p><p> </p><p>“WE NEVER AGREED—” Dabi screamed before he was cut off.</p><p> </p><p>“Allow me to finish. Two, it’s a hostage to force your continued compliance. You need to accept this treatment and I don’t trust you to take care of yourself. I saw what you did to your previous skin grafts, and I will not allow you to render my surgery obsolete. You <em> will </em> stay here and accept my help. Otherwise, I will assume that you have given up on life and stab it.”</p><p> </p><p>A strange and unidentifiable feeling came over Dabi. Aside from his mother and his siblings, nobody had ever tried to genuinely help him. It was always about his family’s money or the bastard's fame. Yet here he was, a homeless nobody with none of those things, and this man wanted to help him. Him, a dreg of society, someone who had been spat on, crushed, and buried countless times over. </p><p> </p><p>The doctor was strange, but Dabi thought him worthier of respect than Endeavor could ever be.</p><p> </p><p>“Alright,” he mumbled.</p><p> </p><p>“What was that?”</p><p> </p><p>“Alright,” Dabi said louder. “I comply with your terms.”</p><p> </p><p>The black-haired man dipped his head as a sign of acknowledgment. </p><p> </p><p> “Good. A few more things. You are severely undernourished. After I allow you to have minimal movement again, you will need to start eating a balanced diet. Your stomach may not be able to hold much food at one time, so you’ll be eating six meals a day with dietary supplements. When it comes to hygiene, I will be the one to give you sponge baths. I will also change your bandages and apply lotion to the grafts when the time comes.”</p><p> </p><p>Dabi gave it some thought. It sounded fair. The sponge baths would definitely be awkward, but everything else sounded fine. In fact, it sounded a lot more luxurious than his current shitty hovel.</p><p> </p><p>“My name is Dabi. Since you are going to be my doctor, how should I address you?” he asked while drawing upon every last bit of the manners and etiquette his former tutors taught him.</p><p> </p><p>The man smiled. It was a harsh smile, more of an intimidating show of teeth than a smile, but a smile nonetheless. </p><p> </p><p>“My name is Trafalgar Law. Call me Law. I look forward to our time together.”</p><p>
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  <b>ooOoo</b>
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</p><p>For Dabi, the first month was torture.</p><p> </p><p>Law would barely let him move, and there was no TV. He was almost always bored out of his mind. Fortunately, about a week after he first entered the clinic, another burn patient was moved to the same room as him. </p><p> </p><p>Watanabe Hayato was a victim of Endeavor’s collateral damage. When Dabi’s father had chased a villain with a salamander mutation quirk, he had thrown a fireball. The target was the villain, who was crawling on an office building. However, the villain had jumped out of the way, and the fireball ended up torching the office building instead. Endeavor’s agency only gave a press conference and refused to compensate the victims, claiming that the villain had brought the damages to the office building.</p><p> </p><p>Dabi thought it was utter bullshit. Watanabe thought so too. </p><p> </p><p>They bonded over Endeavor’s assholery.</p><p> </p><p>Watanabe had left after two weeks because he only had first and second-degree burns. However, by that time, Law also cleared Dabi for movement. Although he could only stand, walk, and lie flat on his back, Dabi thought the day that Law levitated him from the bed was one of the best days in his life.</p><p>
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  <b>ooOoo</b>
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</p><p>Halfway through the third month, Dabi decided to ask Law something that had been on his mind.</p><p> </p><p>During the time that he’d stayed in the clinic, he had seen the other man treat dozens of patients and had interacted with the other man a lot. Most patients were ordinary people like Watanabe Haruko. Some were villains, and there was a hero or two here and there. Law didn’t reject any of them. If the patient had money, they paid with money. If they didn’t, they paid with favors, food, or supplies. He had seen an elderly man pay the doctor with a bag of home-grown cucumbers after Law had fixed his broken leg. </p><p> </p><p>Law had accepted it as graciously as he would any other payment.</p><p> </p><p>The doctor didn’t seem to care about where his patients lie on the political spectrum. They were all people to him and he treated them all the same. Heroes wouldn’t receive any special favors. For villains, there was no refusal. Surely, someone like him would have a neutral and objective viewpoint on the issues of hero society.</p><p> </p><p>And so, Dabi decided to ask.</p><p> </p><p>After business hours had ended, Dabi walked into apartment 103. He found the doctor in the living room, sitting on the new couch and petting Kumajiro.</p><p> </p><p>Law looked up. “Dabi-ya,” he greeted, as the person in question walked over.</p><p> </p><p>As he and Kumajiro scooched over, Dabi also sat on the couch. He knew that Law didn’t like beating around the bush, so he just asked the question bluntly.</p><p> </p><p>“What do you think about hero society?”</p><p> </p><p>There was a pause. Law stopped petting Kumajiro and stared intently at Dabi’s face for a long time. Dabi stared back.</p><p> </p><p>Just as he started feeling seriously creeped out, Law answered his question with yet another question.</p><p> </p><p>“How did the world wrong you?”</p><p> </p><p>“...What?”</p><p> </p><p>The doctor repeated his question in a slightly impatient tone. “You tried to steal from me in the middle of the night while bearing extensive skin grafts. Skin grafts are expensive, so you obviously weren't born poor. How did you get to where you are now?” How did the world wrong you?”</p><p> </p><p>
  <em> How did the world wrong me…  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>He thought of Endeavor, of he and his siblings hiding in the closet at night while quivering in fear. He thought of the training, of the sheer amount of burn cream he would go through every year. Of the event right before he blacked out and woke up in a body bag, when his mother broke down and poured boiling water on Shouto’s face. And the masses. Oh, the masses. All those ignorant people who worshipped his father on a pedestal, all those who accused him of lying when he told them the truth about the Todoroki clan.</p><p> </p><p>He wasn’t ready.</p><p> </p><p>
  <em> I might never be. </em>
</p><p> </p><p>Not knowing what to say, Dabi tried to laugh it off and move on, but Law wouldn’t budge. The unnerving stare and the scowl on his face only increased in intensity. After about ten seconds had passed, he finally sighed and looked down.</p><p> </p><p>“I’ll tell you how the world wronged me, then. Maybe you’ll feel more comfortable after that.”</p><p> </p><p>… <em> Law </em> had a tragic backstory? Dabi couldn’t quite believe it, but he supposed that there was a reason for the doctor to establish an illegal clinic in the middle of the bad part of Kamino Ward.</p><p> </p><p>The other man rearranged the limp pile of cat on his lap before continuing to speak. “I’m a foreigner. The only valuable natural resource in the city where I was born was amber lead. It was toxic, and the lead built up in the bodies of every citizen. Each generation had a shorter lifespan. One day, the symptoms manifested all at once. The hospitals were quickly overrun. The government issued a quarantine and then abandoned us while spreading lies that the disease was highly contagious. In the entire city, I was the only survivor and I escaped by hiding under a pile of dead bodies. The rest of us were gunned down.”</p><p> </p><p>After saying his part, Law went quiet, as if something was preventing him from telling any more. While his face didn’t have any outward changes, Dabi noticed that the other man was clenching his fist so tightly that the knuckles had gone white. He wasn’t lying.</p><p> </p><p>He didn’t know what spurred Law to tell him something that was obviously extremely private. The only explanation that he could think of was that the doctor thought of him as a friend after spending so much time together in the past few months. </p><p> </p><p>Did he think of the doctor as a friend? He wouldn’t know. He never had a friend before. The only people that came close were his siblings, but sibling love was obviously something completely different from friendship.</p><p> </p><p>But Law helped him when no one else tried and trusted him when no one else cared. Was it friendship? Dabi didn’t know how to describe the feeling, but he wanted to return that trust.</p><p> </p><p>Dabi opened his mouth and closed it again, wondering where he should start. After repeating the process a few more times, he started to tell the tale, slowly and stiltedly. “I… I was the eldest. Three siblings. Me, Natsuo, and Fuyumi were the failures while Shouto was the shitty old man’s genetic miracle. Shouto… he got both our mother’s quirk and the bastard’s quirk while the rest of us only got one or the other.”</p><p> </p><p>Dabi went silent again. The next part was difficult to tell, and he tried to calm down from the tension winding up in his body. </p><p> </p><p>“The old man first started training me. My firepower is naturally higher than his, so he thought me less of a failure than Yumi and Natsu. Went through several dozen bottles of burn cream each year. When Shouto came along, I was thrown aside, but I tried to take as much of the training from him as I could. No five year old should regularly suffer from broken bones.”</p><p> </p><p>“The third-degree burns that were on your body?” Law asked.</p><p> </p><p>“Training.” That one word probably shouldn’t have explained as much as it did. </p><p> </p><p>“The bastard was particularly mad that day. I was so exhausted that I blacked out. Guess my heart had fucking stopped or something, ‘cause I woke up in a body bag.”</p><p> </p><p>
  <em> How… Confusing. I thought I would take my past to my grave, yet this man dragged it out of me just like that. </em>
</p><p> </p><p>After unlocking Dabi’s tragic backstory, Law only had a thoughtful look.</p><p> </p><p>
  <em> … Please don’t say ‘I’m sorry’. There’s nothing faker than ‘I’m sorry’. </em>
</p><p> </p><p>“It sounds like your father still has a lot of influence over you.”</p><p> </p><p>Dabi felt incensed. He had cut off all ties, destroyed everything about himself that had the slightest resemblance to Endeavor. <em> How the fuck </em> does the bastard still have influence over him?</p><p> </p><p>“<em> How </em>?” he hissed out. He had tried to keep his voice as even as possible, but the bubbling anger inside of him distorted it somewhat.</p><p> </p><p>Resuming his petting of Kumajiro, Law replied, “You’re still letting your father influence your decisions. You may have cut off all physical ties. In fact, I believe that if you walk over right now, your father might not even recognize you. However, you still think of your father in some way every single day, am I right?”</p><p> </p><p>Dabi opened his mouth to fire off a retort, only to find out that he couldn’t. He <em> did </em> think of Endeavor every single day. Mostly cursing him and imagining his body covered in blue flames, but he couldn’t deny anything that Law said. </p><p> </p><p>“Not every single day,” he argued weakly.</p><p> </p><p>To his credit, Law didn’t try to press his point further. “I’ll take your word for it.”</p><p> </p><p>After saying that, he suddenly stood up. Kumajiro lept onto the floor with an annoyed hiss. “You probably know what I will say about hero society. Heroes are a good idea, but the entire system is a sham. Personally, I think that rankings shouldn’t even exist. I can’t become a hero and I don’t want to be a villain, but I’ll fight in my own way.”</p><p> </p><p>He turned around. “However, <em> you </em>need to rest. <em> Room </em>.”</p><p> </p><p>Dabi knew where this was going.</p><p> </p><p>“<em> Takt </em>.”</p><p> </p><p>He obediently allowed himself to be lifted upstairs. Last time he had, in a panic, resisted, which resulted in Law slicing him into pieces. He didn’t wish to repeat that ever again.</p><p>
  <br/>
  <br/>
</p><p>
  <b>ooOoo</b>
</p><p>
  <br/>
  <br/>
</p><p>It was during the fourth month that Dabi finally had an idea of how powerful Law was. </p><p> </p><p>He’d always known that the other man’s quirk had some serious potential going for it, but somehow, he had still underestimated the grumpy, slightly homicidal doctor. </p><p> </p><p>“Oi! Where’s the owner of this dump?” a dumpy, gray-haired man shouted as he led an entourage of low-level thugs through the reception area. Round tinted glasses covered his beady eyes and his rotund body was fitted in a frumpy suit. As he spoke, ashes fluttered down from the cigar dangling from his mouth.</p><p> </p><p>Inside a transparent, blue operating room, Law growled while he finished bandaging a stitched up laceration. Dabi, having mostly healed, was holding up a tray with thread, needles, and tweezers, serving as a scrub nurse.</p><p> </p><p>“Do you… Know them?” Dabi asked. Having never seen Law growl before (or make any expression aside from blankness, scowls, and that slightly insane smile), Dabi was understandably shocked. The head thug must have barged in multiple times if the doctor was so pissed. </p><p> </p><p>“No,” Law answered with a clipped tone, vastly different from the slow drawl that he usually spoke with.</p><p> </p><p>Yep. He wasn’t just pissed. He’s <em>furious </em>. The kind of fury that left one’s face carefully blank like the calm before an encroaching storm. </p><p> </p><p>The transparent bubble disappeared, and Law strode out of the operating room in apartment 104. Dabi followed close behind, wishing to witness the impending fight.</p><p> </p><p>“Law!” the frumpy geezer greeted jovially, spreading his arms wide as if meeting an old friend. “Have you considered my offer?”</p><p> </p><p>“Beaver,” Law said calmly. The only things that betrayed his anger were his clenched fists and his ramrod-straight posture. “You’re disturbing the patients.”</p><p> </p><p>“Ah… So you didn’t consider it.” While wearing a sad expression that was obviously fake, the gang boss wannabe handed his cigar to one of his cronies. “That’s really sad, Law. I already gave you a month to consider.”</p><p> </p><p>“Leave.” </p><p> </p><p>Before Law dispelled the bubble, he had summoned his sheathed sword. Now, he held it with one hand while the other was held out in preparation to summon a room.</p><p> </p><p>“You want us to leave? We’re not leaving until you become our doctor… NOW!”</p><p> </p><p>At the leader’s shout, the goons all sprang into action. A muscular man with nozzles protruding out of his forearms suddenly started firing bullet-like objects while a woman dressed in white phased behind the doctor, preparing to stab a knife into his thigh. A short, mousy looking man somehow stuck to the ceiling and vomited out a weighted net from above. A fourth person sprayed copious amounts of foul-smelling gas from his body... out of the place where gas usually originates.</p><p> </p><p>The fat leader surveyed it all as if he was a king and Law was just a beetle under a glass jar. </p><p> </p><p>For a few milliseconds, time seemed to have slowed down.</p><p> </p><p>“<em> Room </em>!”</p><p> </p><p>And then the beetle shattered the jar.</p><p> </p><p>The bubble expanded out from the swirl of air under Law’s hand, covering the entire hallway. Everything inside it, whether it be people or gas, froze, unable to move. The eyes of the would-be assailants darted around madly, showing that they were trying to struggle fiercely. However, under Law’s strange power, none of them were able to move a muscle.</p><p> </p><p>With a flash, the odachi was unsheathed, the long blade shimmering weirdly and the sheathe hanging in midair. A spark flashed, then the whole blade was wreathed in electricity.</p><p> </p><p>“<em> Radio Knife </em>!”</p><p> </p><p>Dabi’s eyes couldn’t even follow Law’s sword. Before he knew it, the blade was sheathed again, and every member of the gang was diced into cubes that rained down onto the floor. </p><p> </p><p>Law dispelled the barrier. Seeing Dabi’s widened eyes, the doctor just shrugged and said, “I wanted to make examples out of them.” He turned around and walked off into apartment 103, leaving Dabi to stare at the aftermath. </p><p> </p><p>The entire fight had only lasted for an instant.</p><p> </p><p>He knew Law was powerful, but he never knew that Law was <em>this </em>powerful. In a fight, Dabi wouldn’t stand a chance. </p><p> </p><p>Recovering in the clinic had given Dabi a lot of time to think. Before, he knew that he <em>wanted </em>to kill Endeavor, but never had he thought of <em>how</em>. Living on the streets was tough, and most of his time and energy was dedicated to figuring out how to survive and slip under his father’s attention instead of training. If defeating the bastard was like climbing a mountain, he hadn’t taken a single step and only loitered around the bottom.</p><p> </p><p>The swishing sound of a garbage bag interrupted his thoughts. </p><p> </p><p>“<em> Room </em>.”</p><p> </p><p>The barrier came into being again. The piles of diced remains flew up and orderly dumped themselves. Dispelling the bubble after the last cube deposited itself, Law then tied up the bag and threw it vaguely towards the direction of the door. Turning around to face Dabi, he asked, “What?”</p><p> </p><p>Dabi hadn't even realized that he was staring.</p><p> </p><p>He knew what he wanted. He needed a safe place to stay and a fallback in case of emergencies. However, was it polite to ask for what he wanted from a person he had only met for four months? </p><p> </p><p>Whatever. Fuck it.</p><p> </p><p>“After you discharge me, can I crash at your place randomly?”</p><p> </p><p>Law didn’t even miss a beat with his reply. It seemed like he didn't mind then. “You’re going to owe me a huge favor.”</p><p> </p><p>“Whatever. I already owe you one for patching me up. Feel free to pull it in whenever you want.”</p><p> </p><p>“You owe me two, then. I’m redeeming one now. Tell me your real name.”</p><p> </p><p>Dabi froze. He had hidden behind the mask of Dabi for years, and he prepared to take his real name to the grave. Normally, he would never tell anyone, but something told him that Law was honorable. </p><p> </p><p>But he still had to make Law promise.</p><p> </p><p>“Swear that you won’t tell it to anyone.”</p><p> </p><p>The doctor thought for a bit, then swore. “I swear I won’t tell it to just anyone.”</p><p> </p><p>Dabi narrowed his eyes. Law was up to something. But still, he swore, and Dabi could trust Law to not shout it from the rooftops.</p><p> </p><p>“… It’s Touya. Todoroki Touya.”</p><p> </p><p>After four years, he finally gave up his name. Somehow, he felt like a boulder was lifted off his chest.</p><p> </p><p>He felt lighter.</p><p> </p><p>“Hello, nice to meet you, Todoroki Touya,” Law said as he held up a hand for Dabi to shake. “My name is Trafalgar D. Water Law. But call me Law.”</p><p> </p><p>Both of them grinned and shook.</p><p> </p><p>They felt lighter.</p><p> </p><p> </p><hr/><p>
  <br/>
  <br/>
  <br/>
</p><p>OMAKE:</p><p>
  <br/>
  <br/>
</p><p>Tsukauchi Naomasa walked to the police station for the graveyard shift. As he approached the building, he noticed that some hooligan had left a trash bag on the front steps. </p><p> </p><p>He sighed. It wasn’t the first time that it happened, and it definitely wouldn’t be the last. He resigned himself to his fate, gripped the straps, and prepared to drag it to the dumpsters.</p><p> </p><p>A gust of wind blew by. While holding on to his hat, he noticed that a piece of paper was blown from the bag and got caught onto a nearby bush. Retrieving it, he stared at what could only be called a doctor’s scrawl. In fact, it was worse than a typical doctor’s chickenscratch.</p><p> </p><p>He only decoded the short sentences after ten minutes:</p><p> </p><p>
  <em> Attacked by thugs. </em>
</p><p>
  <em> They’re in the bag, still alive. </em>
</p><p>
  <em> Accident. </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em> What did they mean, still alive? </em>
</p><p> </p><p>Tsukauchi decided to look into the bag and make sure it wasn’t all a prank. </p><p> </p><p>One glance was all it took for him to run into the bushes and throw up.</p><p>
  <br/>
  <br/>
  <br/>
</p><hr/><p>
  <br/>
  <br/>
  <br/>
</p><p>OMAKE 2:</p><p>
  <br/>
  <br/>
</p><p>As Law was sitting on his couch petting Kumajiro, Dabi-ya had walked up and asked a strange question.</p><p> </p><p>"Law, who taught you how to decorate?"</p><p> </p><p>He thought back to his time in the Family. Giolla had been horrified at his complete inability to appreciate art. While all of the other members had taught him how to fight, she had taught him how to calm himself and release his emotions.</p><p> </p><p>"Giolla did."</p><p> </p><p>"And where is she now?"</p><p> </p><p>Law couldn't tell anyone that he came from an alternate dimension, but he did try to stay close to the truth.</p><p> </p><p>"She's long gone."</p><p> </p><p>"… Pity."</p><p> </p><p>It might have been that Law was just imagining it, but Dabi-ya sounded strangely disappointed.</p><p> </p><p>… Maybe he missed something… </p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>Hi peoples</p><p>Wow, it turned out a lot longer than I thought it would be. This is the first chapter of The Polar Tang Clinic. It might have been a little boring, but it's mostly just setting the groundwork for future plot development and working out how Law will interact with patients now that he's a professional (but illegal) doctor. </p><p>Law is kind of deaged for this fic because I really couldn't believe that his canon age after the time skip is 26. Luffy's canon age is 19, and even Kid's and Zoro's ages were 23 and 21 respectively. I'm changing Law's age to 22 because it will fit better, and because I don't want him to be in his thirties when canon starts.</p><p>In the flashback, it said that Law was sent to the BNHA universe via Devil Fruit powers. In my mind, the situation was kind of like Brook's. Doflamingo's new lieutenant ate a fruit, but is unclear on what it actually does. All Doflamingo knows is that the lieutenant can vanish anything once per day (but he actually sends those things to a random dimension). They all think that Law's dead, so there's going to be a wild goose chase for the Ope-Ope no Mi. However, all of that wasn't included because it's not relevant to the main plotline.</p><p>Writing Dabi was HARD. He might be a little OOC, but that's because canon!Dabi is five years down the line. People can change a lot in five years. I kept his core traits like cautiousness and foresight, but I think that his canon personality was heavily influenced by Stain, who is currently absent.</p><p>Law might also seem a little OOC, but his story will be written in flashbacks in the beginning of each chapter. The neon lawn chairs part might have seemed really random, but I kind of have a headcanon that Law would be bad at tasteful interior decoration. I mean, Giolla would be a bad influence on anyone.</p><p>Law and Dabi will be friends. They both have similar backstories and they're both people who were abandoned by authority. Also, since Dabi will be eating properly and have someone to rely on and fall back to in this fic, he will be stronger once the canon timeline starts. </p><p>They gang leader at the end is the same one that was mentioned in the prologue. I imagined Capone Bege x Gato x Roman Sionis. As for the clothing he wears, imagine Hillary Clinton (sorry for any Clinton supporters).</p><p>I don't know if I could write such a long chapter again. Honestly, I thought that I would write 3000 words tops, but it just got longer and longer. I'll do my best though.</p><p>Stay safe everyone!<br/>~ eatP1</p><p> </p><p>As always, I don't own BNHA or One Piece.</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0003"><h2>3. Aizawa</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>This is why you should get enough sleep, folks.</p>
          </blockquote><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>Hey, it's me. Ya boy.</p><p>My dumbass past self somehow thought that it was a good idea to take on four AP classes at once without understanding the courseload. So basically, from the time that I last posted to now, I've been drowning in homework. The next post will probably be sometime after the AP exams in May :)</p><p>I read through all of the comments, and gosh they give me serotonin. It's kind of mind-boggling to me that there are people who still find, read, and comment on this fic even after nearly eight months of hiatus. Thank you. (❁´◡`❁)</p><p>A lot has happened since I last posted, like the manga chapters after 290. I thought about how canon would affect this fic, then decided to just take canon as a loose guideline. A lot can change in five years, and I dunno. I don't really understand why Horikoshi-san made Endeavor out to be a nice guy (because it contradicted all of Endeavor's characterization in earlier chapters), but I will do the Endeavor redemption on my own terms.</p><p>Also, Law will start dealing with his latent issues and healing in this chapter. I sort of based the extermination of Flevance on the Holocaust and Japanese occupation during WWII. So, uh, trigger warning? It's really short, just a couple of lines, so if you want to skip that part, just skip over the lines with strikethrough around the part where Law starts lamenting how boring the BNHA world is.<br/>Law also goes through a panic attack during the exposition at the beginning. Maybe that warrants a trigger warning as well? I don't know. I've always been less sensitive to these types of things -- my family calls me a log -- and I don't really know how trigger warnings work. Please help me, I'm still learning. &lt;(＿　＿)&gt;</p><p>This chapter takes place approximately five months after the beginning of chapter 1.</p><p>Enjoy!<br/>-eatP1</p><p>(rambling about science and headcanons will be found in End Notes)</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <em> He was alive. </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em> The revelation crashed down upon him like a tsunami, overwhelming him and making his head spin.  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em> It didn’t make sense. Nothing made sense. </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em> He was so sure that he was dead. Why wasn't he? His time was up. He wanted to see Cora-san and Mother and Father and Lami so badly, even if it’s just one more time to say his goodbyes properly before going to hell. </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em> In some ways, he was already long overdue. He should have died years ago, joined the others and let the last remnants of Flevance fade away. </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <strike> <em> He was a cockroach, that’s what. A fucking cockroach. </em> </strike>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em> Law reached up towards his head. It was a habit; a bad one, one of his most obvious tells, but he’ll allow himself to go through with it this once. No one was around anyway. No one could see him wanting the comfort of his hat, the only thing that remained of happier times. </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em> His hand felt the texture of course, scruffy hair matted with blood and sweat instead of soft fur.  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em> It wasn’t there. </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em> His hat was gone. </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em> He felt his heart rate increase. </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <b> <em>His hat was gone.</em> </b>
</p><p> </p><p><em> Where was it? No. No -- he couldn’t lose it! Anything but that! </em> <b> <em>Anything but that</em> </b> <b>.</b></p><p> </p><p>
  <em> He felt like he was drowning, heaving in gigantic gasps of air that only served to choke him. The hand resting on his head clutched at his hair, pulling it until he was certain that they were going to be ripped out. The pain didn’t help though. It just sent him spiraling further. </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em> The world seemed to tilt suddenly, and Law fell against the wall. His arms felt like lead, and he wanted to rest there for a bit, but he couldn’t. He needed to find his hat.  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em> But his ears rang and black clouded the edges of his vision. </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em> Trying to walk forward, he stumbled a few steps before slumping sideways. He braced himself against the wall with his shoulder and stared down at his shaking hands. Why was he panicking so much? He needed to find his hat. He couldn’t do that when his emotions clouded his mind and messed with his bodily functions. He couldn’t do that when his muscles felt weak and his vision tunneled. He knew his goal, therefore he should be putting his all into achieving that goal. Why was his body preventing him from doing that? </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em> Logically, he knew what was happening. He was a doctor after all, and though he wasn’t a psychologist, he still had rudimentary knowledge of mental disorders. This was a panic attack, the cause being anxiety, and the body responds by increasing the amount of adrenaline in the bloodstream. Symptoms of a panic attack usually develop without warning and reach their peak at around ten minutes. If he let it run its course naturally, it would take around half an hour, an hour at most. </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em> He was in an unknown environment. He didn’t have an hour. However, it had been less than a minute. He could still break himself out. </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em> Meditation. It’s just like haki training. Empty his mind, control his breath, and the body will follow. </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em> And suddenly, all of the emotions drained away and disappeared, almost as if they never existed in the first place. Law collapsed onto the ground, his back against the brick, still heaving for air, disoriented. He felt exhausted. The physical symptoms never went away as fast as the emotions. </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em> But he was rational now. He could find his hat. He refused to believe that it will ever leave him, unknown devil fruit be damned. </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em> He looked around, and there it was. A few steps to his left, a bit deeper in the alleyway, lying next to his sword. It was so close to him, yet he panicked anyway. </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em> Law walked over and kneeled next to his fur cap. Taking it into his hands, he dusted it off and jammed it back onto his head. He felt a lot safer once it was on, but he still unsheathed his sword, partly to defend himself, partly to evaluate its condition.  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em> No nicks. That was good. </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em> In the muddled moments while he gathered his thoughts, it suddenly occurred to Law that he didn’t quite know what to do next. It was an alien feeling, after nearly a decade of nonstop planning and always knowing his next move… But he supposed that he should first start with the basics. </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em> First on the agenda, where was he? Definitely not Dressrosa, but Grand Line? New World? Blues? Unknown and unmapped island that had civilization? Who knew, nobody except Gold Roger reached the end and even he couldn’t explore the world in its entirety. </em>
</p><p> </p><p><em>Fuck!</em> <em>Was the Ope-Ope no Mi still on him?</em></p><p> </p><p>
  <em> Law held out his hand, concentrated, and saw a swirl of air appear underneath. He couldn’t quantify the immense amount of relief that suddenly rushed through his entire body. If he wasn’t already on the ground, he would have collapsed right then and there. </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em> The fruit was still in his possession. Doflamingo wouldn’t find it.  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <b> <em>Law didn’t fail.</em> </b>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em> A whimper escaped him, then a laugh, then another and another until maniacal laughter echoed off the surrounding walls, too tired to care about anyone who could hear him. The oversized bird probably thought him dead and the devil fruit free for the taking. It would undoubtedly be a fruitless chase even without Mugiwara-ya's determination to take them out. </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em> He stayed in that position for some time, kneeling on the filthy ground while aftershocks rolled through him. Law still couldn't believe it. Any of it. </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em> Not dead.  </em>
</p><p> </p><p><b> <em>Undead</em> </b> <em> .  </em></p><p> </p><p>
  <em> Foiled the damn bird's schemes once again… But that didn’t quite matter anymore, did it? He was no longer in Dressrosa. </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em> But where exactly was he? Where did that damn henchman throw him to?  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em> The more Law noticed, the more unsettled he was. Everything was monochrome, all in drab grays and browns. The buildings stood straight up rather than the curvy architecture distinctive of the islands on the Grand Line and the New World ones he had seen so far. The walls were made up of one giant slab of a sandstone-like rock rather than individual bricks stacked with mortar, the same substance also making up the ground. </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em> There was also the matter of the strange conversations that he had overheard earlier. What were quirks? Who was All Might? Were they some sort of important figure? If so, why hadn’t he heard of them before? </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em> He did wish to exit the alley and find out, but…  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em> Law looked down at himself. He was still wearing the black jacket and jeans from Dressrosa, although they sported rips and tears from his journey with Mugiwara-ya. Scrapes, bruises, and bullet holes covered his body, all from various clashes with Doflamingo.  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em> He looked like a mess that came straight out of a warzone.  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em> Perhaps he should move around and gather information once night falls. The place where he landed seemed relatively peaceful, and he didn’t want to draw any unwanted attention with his appearance.  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em> Even excluding his appearance, Law didn’t think he would go very far. He could feel the adrenaline wearing off and the weariness slowly settling in his bones. Wounds that previously didn’t hurt now sent stabbing pains throughout his body. Drowsiness had quickly set in, and he would kill for a nice nap. </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>He sat down, made himself comfortable, and prepared himself for a long wait... </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em> BOOOOOOOOOOOOOM! </em>
</p><p><br/>
<br/>
</p>
<hr/><p><br/>
<br/>
</p><p>Saturdays were the best. </p><p> </p><p>It was a nice, cool November morning. Under a pile of blankets, Aizawa laid on his stomach, his face buried into his pillow. Four cats purred soothingly while the sounds of a crackling fireplace echoed in the background.</p><p> </p><p>Not that there actually existed a fireplace. No, the crackling sounds came from a speaker playing the twelve hour crackling fireplace video. </p><p> </p><p>But fireplace or not, the combination of the cats and the video soothed his overtaxed mind. Flipping over onto his back, he relaxed all of his muscles until it felt like the bed was practically swallowing him. </p><p> </p><p>Being an underground hero meant taking most of the shifts and patrol hours that mainstream heroes didn’t want, resulting in a man that was more dead than alive most of the time. At this point, Aizawa could sleep anytime, anywhere, and in whatever position he happened to be in. His best friend still teased him about that time he fell asleep hanging off the sofa with his butt sticking in the air.</p><p> </p><p>However, Saturday was his day off. Nobody called him in unless it was urgent. He could snuggle with Latte, Chai, Espresso, and Dango for the entire day and never stray more than a centimeter away from the bed.</p><p> </p><p>In other words, paradise.</p><p> </p><p>His thoughts tapered off, lost in the rumbling and crackling that pervaded his room. Aizawa fell into a half-asleep state, still aware enough of the outside world, but not caring in the slightest. Time passed by like thick honey, the barriers between reality and hallucination blurring until a second felt like an hour and an hour felt like a second. In the back of his mind, he registered the creaky hinges of the door opening, but he gave no sign that he did. </p><p> </p><p>It was his day off. If Hizashi didn’t see the “Do Not Disturb” sign on the doorknob, then he was an idiot.</p><p> </p><p>Socked feet padded into the room, stopping next to his bed. He felt the purring disappear as the cats were lifted off of the bed and placed on the ground one by one. Latte, Chai, and Espresso left the room without any complaints, but Dango hissed and scratched at his roommate. A hollow thud sounded as the chubby blue cat was dropped unceremoniously onto the floor. There were more hissing noises and a quiet gasp of pain from Hizashi, before Dango felt like he had punished the man enough and stalked off.</p><p> </p><p>Aizawa felt his lips twitch upward without his consent. He probably should be more distraught over his roommate’s maltreatment, but Dango was a good cat. Hizashi would probably argue otherwise, but everyone knew not to disturb a cat who is sleeping. </p><p> </p><p>Warm hands covered his shoulders and shook gently. “Shouta,” Hizashi said gently. “You need to wake up.”</p><p> </p><p>“No,” Aizawa said petulantly while turning onto his side.</p><p> </p><p>He heard a sigh. “Look, I hate this as much as you do. God knows that you need sleep, but you were called in by the Commission. They want your quirk for a takedown.”</p><p> </p><p>His sluggish brain had to take some time to process that. Did he hear that right? The HPSC? </p><p> </p><p>Aizawa finally sat up, blinking drowsily as he tried to make sense of the information. The Commission needed his quirk? The <em> Commission </em>? The same one that didn’t care about underground heroes at all? Was the world secretly ending? “Don’t they know that I had a patrol that ended at four in the morning? It’s only six now. How do they expect me to fight?”</p><p> </p><p>Hizashi shook his head. “You don’t need to fight. They just need you to erase the villain’s telekinesis quirk long enough for the other heroes to get close.”</p><p> </p><p>Blinking slowly for another minute, Aizawa tried to simultaneously process the information and wake up fully. His roommate didn’t try to rush him, knowing that he needed a long time to turn from a zombie into a functional human being and needed an even longer time to turn from a functional human being to a battle-ready one.</p><p> </p><p>Finally, he swung his legs over the side of the bed and hauled his body upwards. The change in altitude immediately made his head spin and black spots appear in his vision. Hizashi tried to support him, but Aizawa waved him off and half walked, half stumbled towards the closet where his black hero costume and scarf was hung.</p><p> </p><p>“Shouta,” Hizashi said worriedly, “Are you sure that you can do it? I could call back and refuse. They’ll bitch, but they’ll just find another hero. You’re not the only person that they could call.”</p><p> </p><p>Aizawa looked over tiredly. “How strong did you say the villain was?”</p><p> </p><p>“Well, they’ve destroyed nearly a quarter of Kamino Ward in Yokohama.”</p><p> </p><p>“And do you know anyone else with an erasure quirk?”</p><p> </p><p>“Well… no.”</p><p> </p><p>“Then I need to go.” He turned his attention back to fastening his utility belt and wrapping his scarf around his neck. “It’s our duty, remember?”</p><p> </p><p>Hizashi averted his gaze sheepishly. “Yeah, but I’m still worried about you. You’re severely sleep deprived. What if you’re not fast enough to dodge and you get hurt?”</p><p> </p><p>Aizawa sighed. “Hizashi. You said it yourself, I don’t even need to fight. Nothing will go wrong. Stop worrying.”</p><p> </p><p>“Yeah, but what if--”</p><p> </p><p>“You’re going to get hypertension. Stop. Worrying.”</p><p><br/>
<br/>
</p><p>
  <b>ooOoo</b>
</p><p><br/>
<br/>
</p><p>It was around 6:40 and two shots of espresso later when Eraserhead arrived on the scene. </p><p> </p><p>Gigantic mounds of rubble towered at the edges of what used to be a street. Shattered glass and crumbling concrete crunched underneath his feet as he ran towards the center of the fighting, a layer so thick that it was impossible to see the original pavement. The wind picked up thick, billowing clouds of dust and sent the grit whipping through the air, though his goggles prevented it from entering his eyes. Here and there, the skeletons of buildings stood stubbornly, though it seemed that one good breeze could send them toppling over at any moment. </p><p> </p><p>A cacophony of sirens and voices filled the air as rescue efforts were underway. Heroes specializing in rescue lifted and destroyed debris with their quirks, making a path for search teams to find survivors. As he watched, a young, newly-debuted hero detached all of his feathers from his massive wings and sent them zipping into the loose rubble, lifting out survivors and wreckage alike. </p><p> </p><p>Ambulances and paramedics worked overtime, loading the injured onto stretchers and driving away as quickly and efficiently as possible. More and more ambulances were arriving by the minute, and those with telepathy quirks coordinated the medical teams with the rescue teams to save as many civilians as possible. </p><p> </p><p>Eraserhead felt out of his depth. He rarely worked in such busy environments, instead taking the more covert missions involving drug rings and trafficking circles. However, UA had prepared him for above ground heroism, and he quickly adapted and pushed his unease aside.</p><p> </p><p>The damage increased the closer he got to the epicenter until he arrived at a flattened clearing about 500 meters in diameter. He only got one look before he had to dodge due to a jagged slab of concrete whizzing past his ear. </p><p> </p><p>That must be what the Commission meant when they said ‘strong telekinesis quirk’. However, the HPSC also had a penchant for understating things, so when they say ‘strong’, what they actually meant was ‘a fucking monstrosity’. </p><p> </p><p>The villain, a short and plump blue haired man, had control of every single piece of debris within a 250 meter radius. Broken wood, shards of glass, and bits of concrete all swirled through air, creating what looked like a tornado around the villain and served as both an offensive and defensive structure. None of the heroes who were melee fighters could even get close, while the rubble blocked most long range attacks. Even those few attacks that got through the barrier were useless, as the man was nimble and seemed to have eyes on the back of his head.</p><p> </p><p>But as powerful as the villain was, he and the group of heroes were locked in a stalemate, a balance so delicate that even the slightest change could tip the scales. And Eraserhead’s job was to give a push in the heroes’ favor. All he had to do was stay out of range and erase the villain’s quirk for a minute or two.</p><p> </p><p>Easy.</p><p> </p><p>He closed his eyes, took a deep breath, and activated his quirk. He felt the weight of his hair disappear and the slight burning in his eyes as he waited for everything to drop. </p><p> </p><p>He waited. A second. Two seconds. Three seconds. Four seconds… and nothing. The tornado was still there, the heroes weren’t winning, nothing changed. </p><p> </p><p>Did he accidently focus his quirk on the wrong target?</p><p> </p><p>Taking a deep breath, Eraserhead tried again. </p><p> </p><p>Locate. Focus. Activate… </p><p> </p><p>
  <em> What the fuck was wrong? </em>
</p><p> </p><p>Hurriedly and with a little panic, he mentally checked off a list of things that could potentially affect his quirk. Within his line of sight? Check. Concentration on the target? Check.</p><p> </p><p>Anything else? Well, there was quirk activation, but he liked to think that he would know if his quirk was on or not.</p><p> </p><p>But it wouldn’t hurt to check that too.</p><p> </p><p>Activating his quirk for the third time (and he made sure that he activated it), he glared at the villain with every single bit of the power he got from his previously ingested caffeine.</p><p> </p><p>Nothing.</p><p> </p><p>He almost let loose a strangled yell of frustration, but that might distract the heroes and give the villain an edge. </p><p> </p><p>However.</p><p> </p><p>Last he checked, telekinesis fell under emitter-type quirks, and last he checked, he could erase emitter-types.</p><p> </p><p>
  <em> So why couldn’t he erase the damn tornado wall? </em>
</p><p> </p><p>Normally, he wouldn’t be so frustrated over something so small as not being able to erase someone’s quirk, but it was too early, he wanted to sleep, he wanted his cats, he wanted Hizashi, and he wanted out of this situation. But that wouldn’t happen so a suitable substitute would be to punch something. Or to yank out his hair. </p><p> </p><p>He rubbed his temples and took a deep breath, trying to quell the childish urges. Throwing a tantrum wouldn’t help at all. According to protocol, the first step in an unknown situation is to observe and gather information. He was missing something, something extremely obvious but hidden just out of his reach. </p><p> </p><p>His quirk wasn’t anything complicated. There were three conditions if he wanted to erase a quirk.</p><p> </p><p>One, his quirk must be activated.</p><p> </p><p>Two, he must focus on the person whose quirk he wanted to erase, otherwise he would erase all the quirks in his view.</p><p> </p><p>Three, the user of the quirk must be within his line of sight. In other words, they must have some part of their body exposed. If they were completely covered with clothing, his quirk wouldn’t affect theirs. If they were out of his sight, his quirk wouldn’t affect theirs.</p><p> </p><p>Of the three conditions, it was only the last one that Eraserhead did not have rigid control over. His quirk had never failed him before, therefore the user of the telekinesis quirk must not be in his line of sight. Which was impossible because he was staring at every single one of the combatants.</p><p> </p><p>… </p><p> </p><p>… </p><p> </p><p>…Unless there existed a second villain. <em> Unless </em> the blue haired villain’s quirk wasn’t telekinesis at all, and the swirling pieces of rubble were the work of <em> someone else </em>. </p><p> </p><p>The more Eraserhead thought about it, the more it made sense. He couldn’t erase the man’s quirk because it <em> wasn’t his quirk </em> . Nothing the heroes did could break the villain’s concentration because <em> he wasn’t responsible for the tornado wall in the first place </em>.</p><p> </p><p>Was it really that simple?</p><p> </p><p>Eraserhead focused again, this time with the goal of confirming his hypothesis, looking for anything out of the ordinary that could potentially be a quirk. Sure enough, the moment his quirk activated, the blue-haired villain’s speed slowed down and he was immediately hit with several attacks from the heroes’ side. Deactivate, and he sped up again.</p><p> </p><p>…He was correct.  </p><p> </p><p>Damn. That just complicated things. </p><p> </p><p>The underground hero looked over toward the fight still going on. Should he tell them?</p><p> </p><p>A larger than average piece of rubble nearly brained one of the battling heroes as he watched, and Eraserhead winced.</p><p> </p><p>…Nah. </p><p> </p><p>It wouldn’t do any good to divert their concentration or interfere. Telling someone else might also notify the unknown villain that he was onto them. No, it’s better to be discreet and go after the villain alone with the element of surprise.</p><p> </p><p>There was also the tiny matter that he didn’t exactly… have a good reputation with mainstream heroes, but he preferred to not think about that.</p><p> </p><p>Eraserhead glanced around at the surrounding buildings. The second villain must be nearby and at a spot with a direct line of sight to the battle. Otherwise, it wouldn’t be possible to coordinate the fight with the blue-haired villain so well. But 250 meters wasn’t a short distance by any means, so they might have some sort of equipment? Maybe binoculars…?</p><p> </p><p>
  <em> There! </em>
</p><p> </p><p>A flash of early morning sunlight reflected off of something on the roof of a structure in his eight o’clock direction. Target acquired, Eraserhead snuck off, sticking to the shadows the best he could. When he arrived at the base of the (miraculously still standing) building, he found that the stairs were all but disintegrated, forcing him to launch himself up with his capture weapon.</p><p> </p><p>It was all going great. Until the second villain somehow sensed him and jumped over the side the moment the hero’s feet touched the solid concrete.</p><p> </p><p>Eraserhead sprinted over to the other side and immediately activated his quirk, causing the man’s elegant flying to turn into a yelp of surprise as he fell into a pile of trash bags. His hunch turned out to be correct: the origin of the telekinesis was indeed this man. In the distance, he could vaguely hear the cheers of the other assembled heroes that signalled a successful takedown. The villain must have heard too, as he immediately scrambled out of the garbage pile and bolted off, rapidly turning the corner and leaving the hero’s line of sight.</p><p> </p><p>Swearing under his breath, Eraserhead gave chase. Whenever he blinked or lost sight of him, the villain would use his quirk to gain a burst of speed, often increasing the distance by 100 or so meters. Then the other man would sprint off after taking a tumble when Erasure activated again, rapidly decreasing the distance by 100 or so meters. The chase quickly turned into a battle of attrition, neither able to catch nor shake off the other. </p><p> </p><p>After a kilometer or so, which was an embarrassingly short distance considering his usual standards, exhaustion washed over him and black spots danced in his vision, forcing him to stop unless he wanted to collapse. </p><p> </p><p>Sleep deprivation.</p><p> </p><p>His entire body felt like a limp noodle, rubbery arms fumbling with his pockets and trying to locate his phone. It wasn’t there. He must have left it behind in the apartment.</p><p> </p><p>Fuck. </p><p> </p><p>Leaning against the side of a brick building, he coughed a few times, each breath feeling like knives slashing through his throat. His vision blurred -- possibly from tears, possibly from exhaustion, he didn’t know -- and the sharp outlines of the world turned into indistinct blobs of color. </p><p> </p><p>The villain was long gone. A villain with such a dangerous quirk was long gone, who knew if a situation like today would happen tomorrow.</p><p> </p><p>What was he thinking?</p><p> </p><p>He sat heavily on the ground. If the villain was the vengeful type, one who would circle around and come back for revenge, he’d be a sitting duck.</p><p> </p><p>Cover. He needed cover. Lurching onto unsteady legs, he looked around for anywhere he could duck into. An alley, maybe, or an awning or--</p><p> </p><p>A silvery flash appeared at his peripheral vision. He dodged. Or tried to.</p><p> </p><p>With a wet thunk, the knife sank into his chest and momentum carried him to the ground.</p><p> </p><p>The last thing he saw was the opening of a door and the creaking of a large, hand-painted sign.</p><p><br/>
<br/>
</p><p>
  <b>ooOoo</b>
</p><p><br/>
<br/>
</p><p>“You don’t understand, Obito. You don’t know what happens to people who break the rules.”</p><p> </p><p>Mournful music played.</p><p> </p><p>“I believe that the White Fang was a true hero.”</p><p> </p><p>A muffled gasp. The mournful music continued.</p><p> </p><p>“It’s true that in the ninja world, those who break the rules and regulations are called trash. But… <em> Those who don’t care about their friends are even worse than trash </em>.”</p><p> </p><p>More mournful music emanated from the television, the dramatic interlude washing over the duo who were collapsed on the couch. One stared into the television screen, enraptured by the moving images. A fluffy white cat purred while kneading the stomach of the other, the rumbling sound loud and soothing. The music carried for a few moments before the sound was broken by a question.</p><p> </p><p>“Law.”</p><p> </p><p>“Hm?”</p><p> </p><p>“Why d’you like this show so much? You feel like the type who would rather watch boring documentaries than quality media.”</p><p> </p><p>Trafalgar Law tore his eyes away, leaned back, and observed the ceiling. There was a large, yellow water stain right above their heads. A sanitation hazard that he would need to find a way to remove. “Well, ninja’s are cool,” he finally decided after a moment.</p><p> </p><p>Dabi stared, flabbergasted. “O…kay. Never thought you’d say that, but okay.”</p><p> </p><p>“Is it really that surprising?”</p><p> </p><p>“Yeah,” came the response with no hesitation.</p><p> </p><p>A beat of silence while Law tried to formulate a response to that blunt answer. “Then why do <em> you </em>like it?”</p><p> </p><p>“Huh?” Dabi blinked as he registered the question. “Oh. I used to watch it with my siblings when the bastard was out of the house. Natsu and Shou really liked it.”</p><p> </p><p>A fadeout. Then the opening notes of the ending theme sounded, signalling the end of the daily two episode quota. Law let out a breath in resignation and turned the television off. </p><p> </p><p>The yellow watermark, while not very interesting, was still interesting enough to occupy his attention for a long time.</p><p> </p><p>The show was over.</p><p> </p><p>He had nothing to do.</p><p> </p><p>It had been slow lately in the clinic. No broken bones, no lacerations, no overdose cases, no transplant procedures, nothing. He had already memorized all of his biology, physics, chemistry, and anatomy books weeks ago. And to top it all off, he’d hit a bottleneck in his training.</p><p> </p><p>He was <em> bored </em>. Never mind that all of the things listed earlier were boring too.</p><p> </p><p>Everything was too <em> tame </em> . The world he’d landed in was too <em> tame </em> , too <em> boring </em>. It was nothing like the chaos and adventure of the Grand Line. Everything that was even remotely exciting was illegal, which, admittedly, wasn’t too different from his old life, but the criminals here didn’t have the same support that pirates had from the general masses.</p><p> </p><p>The only entertainment he had in these months was dicing the villains who didn’t listen to the clinic’s rules and sending them to the police station. But then again, his reputation seemed to have spread, and the number of troublemakers had decreased exponentially in recent days.</p><p> </p><p><em> Boring </em>. </p><p> </p><p>
  <strike> And the constant boredom was doing things to him. His mind kept wandering back to flames and smoke and <em> corpses </em> . </strike>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <strike> The stench. </strike>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <strike> Slicing open the dead. </strike>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <strike> Surrounded by tissue and muscle and blood and <em> more dead bodies and dirt and </em> <b> <em>oh my god Ican’tBREATHE.</em> </b> </strike>
</p><p> </p><p>“--aw. LAW.”</p><p> </p><p>He blinked and looked over. “What do you want?”</p><p> </p><p>Dabi crossed his arms over his chest. “You were shaking.”</p><p> </p><p>“Oh.” The scarred man didn’t ask any questions, of which Law was grateful. He didn’t want to think about his past any more than he had to, but that was progressively growing more and more difficult. The boredom gave him no choice but to <em> think </em>, and nothing exciting ever lasted long enough to be an adequate distraction.</p><p> </p><p>While he was spaced out, Kumajiro had migrated from his previous spot. He somehow wedged himself between Dabi’s thighs (which was impressive, considering the cat’s size) and purred like a motor. The man himself absentmindedly ran his fingers through the thick fur and had a look of wonder, as if he still couldn’t believe that the cat in his lap was real. Law tried to reach over and pet Kumajiro as well, but the cat immediately bared his teeth and hissed.</p><p> </p><p>Law withdrew his hand and sighed, defeated. “My cat betrayed me.”</p><p> </p><p>“Hey,” Dabi interjected. “Your cat’s a demon who hates everyone. It’s not just you.”</p><p> </p><p>“He likes you though. He tolerates me, and only when you're not available.”</p><p> </p><p>“That’s because I’m just that special,” the fire user said with a smug grin and a cocky tilt of his head. “And he still ignored me until, like, a month ago. What? Are you jealous?”</p><p> </p><p>Law grimaced. Like truly attracted like. Both him and the cat. They’re both little shits. </p><p> </p><p>And he <em> was </em> jealous. He missed Bepo. He missed his crew. He missed the commiseration nights where his crew would drink rum and bitch about their problems while he, their captain, basked in the atmosphere. He missed the underwater view outside the submarine. Hell, he even missed the Strawhats with their unique brand of insanity.</p><p> </p><p>He missed his former life. Not that he would ever say that out loud. He had a new calling now, a goal to fulfill a long-forgotten dream in the past.</p><p> </p><p>“Why you?” he started instead. “He doesn’t simply <em> like </em>anyone.”</p><p> </p><p>Kumajiro’s only true loves were Dabi, the radiator, and cat food. And it couldn’t be the normal cat food either. No, the bugger only touched the fancy canned <em> expensive </em> stuff. It got to the point where cat food took up so much of his monthly budget that Law had to look up cat food recipes on the internet and cook for three.</p><p> </p><p>“It must be my glowing personality,” Dabi answered.</p><p> </p><p>Law squinted. “For some reason, I don’t believe that’s true.”</p><p> </p><p>Dabi shrugged, his hands still carding through the fluffy fur. “I don’t know,” he mused. A particularly shit-eating grin sat on the scarred man’s face, and Law brought a hand up to rub at his temple. “But cats like warmth, right? My quirk gives me a higher body temperature remember?”</p><p> </p><p>It was one of the more embarrassing moments of his life when he first discovered the arsonist’s wildly oscillating body temperature and Dabi liked to bring up the incident at every opportunity he got. </p><p> </p><p>The little shit. Worse, Law couldn’t even find fault with the ribbing because it <em> was </em> a complete and ridiculous loss of composure on his part.</p><p> </p><p>“I know what you’re doing, Dabi-ya.”</p><p> </p><p>“Mmhm.”</p><p> </p><p>“Stop it.”</p><p> </p><p>“I’ll hold that day over your head until I die!” Dabi cackled. Law sighed and pinched the bridge of his nose. The raspy laughing noise attacked his eardrums and he could feel tension gathering around his eye.</p><p> </p><p>Chronic insomnia already gave him nausea most mornings. And now this.</p><p> </p><p>Fuck. He needed coffee.</p><p> </p><p>“Is it breakfast time?” Dabi shouted after Law as he got up and drifted toward the machine that produced the Black Tar of Life™ (absolutely shit taste, but god, it did wonders to keep him awake). “I want noodles!”</p><p> </p><p>“It’s already been a week of nonstop noodle dishes! Pick something else!” Law yelled back tiredly, turning the machine on after haphazardly tossing in some water and coffee grounds.</p><p> </p><p>“But noodles are <em> awesome </em>” came the resulting whine.</p><p> </p><p>“No.”</p><p> </p><p>Law swore that he had probably done something in his past life to attract these food addicts. First it was Bepo with his sashimi (and it had to be the <em> freshly caught </em> , <b> <em>Sea King </em> </b> <em> sashimi </em> -- the bear was secretly a gourmet even if he didn’t admit it <em> ) </em>, then it was Mugiwara-ya with his meat, now it was Dabi-ya with his noodles. </p><p> </p><p>At least noodle dishes could be tweaked to be more balanced nutritionally. He still couldn’t believe how Mugiwara-ya didn’t get kidney stones from all of the protein he ingests. But then again, maybe he wouldn’t be bothered even if he did get kidney stones since his urethral track could just stretch to let the stones pass through.</p><p> </p><p>“I’m making congee with tamagoyaki and wurst,” he stated as he got out the cutting board, knife, and pot. “Eat it or leave it.”</p><p> </p><p>Law was in the middle of filling the pot up with water when Dabi shuffled into the kitchen as well. He took a seat at the breakfast table, lazy and stretched out, lounging in a puddle of sunlight that managed to stream in through the window. It was awfully domestic, awfully familiar. In Law’s mind, the scene overlapped with an older memory in a different kitchen, one where white buildings sat outside the window instead of concrete walls, where anatomy tests were his biggest worries, where it wasn’t Law at the stove but his mother, where it wasn’t Dabi at the table but himself and his sister. Yet, even with the nostalgic air, Law realized that he couldn't remember their faces. Their happy faces, not the faces twisted in agony as the amber lead poisoning set in.</p><p> </p><p>He hurriedly placed the pot full of water on the stove, then took out the vegetables and started slicing them aggressively.</p><p> </p><p>“Do you want help?”</p><p> </p><p>“No,” Law started, then stopped. “Actually, go beat the eggs. Six eggs, mirin, soy sauce, and dashi. Go.”</p><p> </p><p>He attacked the cabbage, slamming the knife into the cutting board until the ceramic blade had almost formed chips. The snow peas were also snapped with more force than necessary. It was silly, taking out his frustration on vegetables, but his usual methods of stress relief were all out of the question.</p><p> </p><p>Dabi side-eyed his childish display. “Yeesh, you can’t still be embarrassed by that,” he said as he took out the ingredients and started cracking eggs and pouring stuff into a bowl. “It’s been months.”</p><p> </p><p>“I’m not embarrassed,” Law replied. “Just remembered something, that’s all.” He paused, then said, “Though, after being a doctor for years, it <em>was</em> a disgrace to have lost all of my composure.”</p><p> </p><p>“Do you usually panic?” Dabi asked while eyeballing the amount of soy sauce.</p><p> </p><p>“Well… no.”</p><p> </p><p>“Then it’s just a one time thing.” Dabi grinned widely, something that was possible now that he didn’t have staples. “Besides, you can’t deny that it was kind of funny. Trafalgar Law, the big bro that I never had, resting bitch face extraordinaire, freaking out over my health. Ha!”</p><p> </p><p>Law had to stop the knife to avoid slicing into his finger. On the stovetop, the pot of water whistled and clanked merrily. “…You really think so?” </p><p> </p><p>“What?” Dabi asked distractedly as he attacked the egg mixture with a pair of chopsticks.</p><p> </p><p>“You said that I was the big brother that you never had.”</p><p> </p><p>“Oh that? Yeah.”</p><p> </p><p>For a bit, the only sounds in the kitchen were of chopsticks and the splash of rice into the water. The heat was turned down to low, the contents of the pot left to simmer.</p><p> </p><p>“Are you sure that we can’t have noodles?”</p><p> </p><p>“No.”</p><p> </p><p>“Damn.”</p><p><br/>
<br/>
</p><p>
  <b>ooOoo</b>
</p><p><br/>
<br/>
</p><p>Law was in the middle of chopping scallions when he felt it. Someone entered the range of his Kenbunshoku haki, running madly as if fighting for their life. Normally, this would be nothing suspicious; after all, the world had no lack of weirdos, but all of the civilians had been evacuated due to the nearby villain attack. Anyone left would either be powerful in some way or a fool. </p><p> </p><p>A moment later, a second person ran into his range, but their aura flickered in a way that indicated that they were exhausted. This proved true, as they stumbled and collapsed somewhere near the clinic’s door.</p><p> </p><p>He put down the knife and the vegetables and reached for Kikoku. “Dabi-ya, could you take care of this for a bit? I need to go outside.”</p><p> </p><p>“Is it trouble?” Dabi asked, eyes not leaving the tamagoyaki pan.</p><p> </p><p>“Maybe. Maybe not.”</p><p> </p><p>“Sure. Do your thing. Do you need me to get a trash bag?”</p><p> </p><p>“Just keep one at hand. I might not need it.”</p><p> </p><p>“Okay.” There was a sizzle as more of the egg mixture landed on the pan.</p><p> </p><p>Law’s hand tightened on the handle of his sword as he walked through the apartment, one part of his mind still keeping track of the unknown auras. </p><p> </p><p>The fast one ran some distance away, but started doubling back.</p><p> </p><p>He reached the door to the hallway.</p><p> </p><p>The exhausted one stood up again, wobbled, and started walking away slowly.</p><p> </p><p>There was a sense of urgency to his footsteps as he walked toward the front door.</p><p> </p><p>The fast one stopped and launched a knife at the exhausted one.</p><p> </p><p>Law sprinted the remaining distance and threw the door open. </p><p> </p><p>The knife buried itself into the exhausted one’s chest. The fast one readied another knife, preparing to finish the job.</p><p> </p><p>“Room! Shambles!” </p><p> </p><p>A piece of gravel on the ground replaced the knife. The fast one seemed shocked by the sudden appearance of a rock within his fist, faltering for a few seconds that gave Law enough time to appear before him.</p><p> </p><p>“Radio Knife!”</p><p> </p><p>The blue-haired man broke apart into cubes. Turned out that the trash bag was needed after all.</p><p> </p><p>Only a few seconds had passed and Law turned his attention to the would-be homicide victim. The man had fallen awkwardly onto his side, and Law lifted him up with Takt to assess the damage.</p><p> </p><p>The knife had pierced into the left side of the chest between the fourth and fifth ribs at an angle. Lodged into the body, not long enough to pierce through. From the positioning, pneumothorax and hemothorax were almost a certainty, though not enough time elapsed for a tension pneumothorax or a massive loss of blood to occur. Heart is close to the stab wound, possibility of pericardial effusion exists. The right wrist is also fractured, though compared with the other complications, that was far less urgent to resolve.</p><p> </p><p>Law required a scan to confirm his diagnosis, but even without concrete information, anyone with eyes could see that surgery was needed and fast. </p><p> </p><p>He gritted his teeth. </p><p> </p><p>Pericardial effusion was the buildup of fluid in the pericardium. Depending on how much and how quickly the blood flowed into the pericardial sac, the development of cardiac tamponade was highly likely. The pericardium is a rigid membrane, so too much fluid will put pressure on the heart, which would affect the heart’s ability to pump blood. Too much pressure and the amount of blood that the heart could keep in circulation drops. Oxygen levels drop. Cardiogenic shock. Further complications include pulmonary edema and possibly death if there’s no timely intervention.</p><p> </p><p>Hemothorax and pneumothorax occur when blood and air, respectively, get trapped in the pleural space surrounding the lungs. Minor cases are not dangerous, but in trauma incidents like this one, the initial complication could easily develop into a medical emergency. A massive hemothorax or a tension pneumothorax seemed unlikely to develop from an outside penetration wound, but one can never be too careful.</p><p> </p><p>The hemothorax and pericardial effusion were things that he could treat with his powers easily, but the pneumothorax was a problem. With his current ability, he couldn’t remove the air inside the pleural space with his Devil Fruit alone. Gas molecules were simply too fucking fast and impossible to lock on. </p><p> </p><p>He needed equipment. Specifically, a chest tube drainage system with a pump. However, where would he get one? The quality of anything bought through illegal means is highly suspect, and there wasn’t enough time to convert the necessary cash to digital currency to buy a legitimate one online. He could keep the patient alive, but that was it. </p><p> </p><p>Law sucked in a breath and pushed it aggressively out his nose.</p><p> </p><p>But was it really the time to agonize over the complications? He <em> did </em> have the ability to treat all of the other complications, and though he can’t treat the pneumothorax, he could at least prevent it from getting worse. Resolving the urgent issues would buy himself time to figure out a way to deal with the remaining ones.</p><p> </p><p>Though there was no stretcher, Takt kept the newest patient elevated and stable. He carefully levitated the patient through the front door, taking care to flip over the sign stating “Surgery in progress. Please return in a few hours”. With the unconscious body in tow, Law sprinted toward the apartment designated as the operating room.</p><p> </p><p>“Dabi-ya! Turn off the stove! Code blue! ER normal procedure!”</p><p> </p><p>There was a yelp and a clatter of pans, but Law paid that no mind. They had been working together on enough surgeries for the other man to know exactly what he was talking about. Code blue meant a medical emergency, which the possibility of cardiac tamponade certainly qualified as. ER normal procedure meant to tie up hair and loose clothing, wear surgical gloves and mask, and join him in the emergency operating room.</p><p> </p><p>The emergency operating room, which was formerly the living room of apartment 104, had been the first room to be converted when Law took over the apartment building. Located near the back, it resembled a bunker: fenced in, no windows, and little natural light. It had taken him a week of nonstop work to install all of the artificial lighting and linoleum flooring, but it had been worth every bit of effort. </p><p> </p><p>Located in the center of the room was the surgical table Law had bought from an American website with Dabi’s help. With a flick of the wrist, the patient was properly situated and Law dispelled the Room. No use wasting energy.</p><p> </p><p>Law removed the goggles and the strange scarf that the patient had wrapped around his neck, then cut open the man’s black, jumpsuit-like attire. He was hooking the patient up to the ventilator when footsteps outside thundered against the floor. </p><p> </p><p>“What’s going on?” Dabi demanded as he burst in. “I thought you went out to take care of trouble.”</p><p> </p><p>“He got stabbed in the chest,” Law said as he flicked the switch. The machine shuddered to life, immediately filling the room with a systemic whooshing and clicking sound. After slipping on a pair of surgical gloves, he handed a disposable hair net to the other man and took one for himself along with a face mask. “The knife might have nicked the heart.”</p><p> </p><p>Dabi sucked in a breath. “Ouch… Did you take care of the other person?”</p><p> </p><p>“He’s cubed outside.”</p><p> </p><p>“Okay.”</p><p> </p><p>“Get both the external and internal kits.”</p><p> </p><p>“Mm.” </p><p> </p><p>As the other man walked away to get the tray of surgical tools, Law could feel his face twist in a slightly manic grin. This was easily the most exciting surgery since Doflamingo’s damned henchman booted him here. A close duel with Death, the patient’s life hanging in the balance. A duel that he didn’t plan to lose.</p><p> </p><p>“Are we starting?” Dabi asked, tray in hand, face mask, hair net, and surgical gloves in place.</p><p> </p><p>“Yes. Room!”</p><p> </p><p>A new blue sphere appeared, the diameter slightly bigger than the room they were in.</p><p> </p><p>“Scan.”</p><p> </p><p>Law ran the energy through Kikoku and beamed it throughout the space. </p><p> </p><p>“Target pathogens.”</p><p> </p><p>Every single surface lit up in red and the air was suddenly filled with uncountable glowing red specks. With a Shambles, he flung all of them in a biohazard bag, which he then sealed away and threw into a trash bin. </p><p> </p><p>The room is now completely sterile. He’d like to see any other hospital-grade disinfectant do better.</p><p> </p><p>He canceled the old Scan and started a new one, this time using it like an x-ray to check the areas affected by trauma. In the thoracic cavity, the irregular shape of the lungs and the whitish mass confirmed Law’s suspicions of pneumothorax and hemothorax. The heart was also noticeably larger than what was considered normal for the patient’s gender and size. It was likely that cardiac tamponade already occurred.</p><p> </p><p>All of it was to his expectations. However…</p><p> </p><p>“Shit,” Law muttered under his breath.</p><p> </p><p>“Huh? What’s wrong?”</p><p> </p><p>One of his original assumptions was incorrect. It wasn’t a simple fractured wrist. The patient had a distal radius fracture, and the bone was broken in a way that resulted in a partial laceration of the radial artery. Nothing he couldn’t fix, but it was an unforeseen complication on top of already dire conditions.</p><p> </p><p>Law canceled that Scan in favor of a vital signs monitoring one. One look at the data and he bit back a curse. </p><p> </p><p>Blood pressure: dangerously low.</p><p> </p><p>Oxygen saturation: low.</p><p> </p><p>Heart rate: dropping.</p><p> </p><p>The patient’s breaths came out rapid and shallow. His lips had a bluish tinge. Cold and clammy hands.</p><p> </p><p>He was entering cardiogenic shock.</p><p> </p><p>“External kit, a blood transfusion with the O negative and microsurgery instruments. Go!”</p><p> </p><p>The knife switched places with a piece of paper, which fluttered gently on top of the wound while the knife landed with a clatter on the tray. Blood immediately started oozing out. Dabi hastily passed over the needle and sutures, then rushed off to begin setting up the rack, tubing, and catheters. Law began another round of disinfecting (because who knew what exactly had been on the knife), then closed the external wound with a running stitch.</p><p> </p><p>“Takt. Mes.”</p><p> </p><p>A flick of the wrist and a palm strike later, both the lungs and heart were removed from the patient’s chest cavity and placed on a separate surface.</p><p> </p><p>An x-ray image could never truly convey the severity of a penetrating trauma wound. The left lung had completely collapsed, blood pooling at the bottom of the pleural space and oozing out sluggishly. There were severed pulmonary veins and arteries to fix, a severed tertiary bronchi to reconnect. The heart, on the other hand, was completely silent. Little to no contractions, swollen with blood, and choked.</p><p> </p><p>Without wasting a moment, Law flicked his wrist and pulled. A stream of blood and other fluids flowed out and Law pulled out about 200 mL before he deemed it alright to close the wound. </p><p> </p><p>“Biohazard bag.”</p><p> </p><p>Dabi handed one over. Law dumped the fluids inside, sealed it, and threw it somewhere near the trash can. He eyed the vital signs Scan again.</p><p> </p><p>Blood pressure was still low.</p><p> </p><p>“Internal kit. Prepare a milligram of epinephrine.”</p><p> </p><p>The spool of absorbable sutures and a needle was handed over. As Law sealed the gash, Dabi took the ampule containing epinephrine and loaded the chemical into the barrel. Tap to dislodge any air bubbles, squeeze the excess out.</p><p> </p><p>“Epinephrine.”</p><p> </p><p>The syringe was handed over.</p><p> </p><p>“Tell me when it's been five minutes,” Law said as he injected the chemical into the patient’s thigh.</p><p> </p><p>“Right,” came the answer.</p><p> </p><p>Law turned his attention to the mangled lung. Thankfully, the knife wasn’t jostled around too much which kept the damage to a minimum. </p><p> </p><p>With a pass of the scalpel, Law cut off a section of the outer pleural membrane and set it aside. The accumulated blood immediately started to drip out, pooling onto the surface below it. </p><p> </p><p>The easiest way for him to anastomose a severed blood vessel is to trim off a sliver from each side and use his powers to join the ends together. It would do for a temporary fix, though depending on the patient’s occupation, Law might have to start a second surgery after this one to manually anastomose the blood vessels. After all, it wouldn’t do for the anastomosed blood vessels to break apart again with a strong enough force.</p><p> </p><p>“Scan. Thirty times magnification.”</p><p> </p><p>A sort of double vision appeared, pink tissue and red blood layered over the brightness of the operating room. He focused on the magnified view.</p><p> </p><p>“Put the microsurgical instruments beside me.”</p><p> </p><p>The next few moments were a blur of locating the blood vessels, trimming them, sticking them together, repeat. He found the severed bronchus, reattached that too. When he was finished, he looked up and saw that not even four minutes had passed. </p><p> </p><p>If his father was still alive, he would have fainted over the manner in which he was carrying out microsurgery, then wake up and give a three hour long lecture about how “every single detail of a surgery is important, all the way down to the direction in which you swab alcohol for an injection -- remember, always consistent and counterclockwise!”</p><p> </p><p>Ever since receiving his Devil Fruit, Law had thrown that advice completely out the window. There was no point in planning out all the details. There was no point in continuing the minimally invasive approach when he could slice people in half, remove their hearts -- hell, remove their entire fucking <em> personalities </em>even -- and still keep them alive. Instead, he changed his surgical methodology to that of expediency. Slice the patient up as many times as it would take to fix them. </p><p> </p><p>He threw his father’s teachings away. All he had left was his hat.</p><p> </p><p>“It’s been five minutes.”</p><p> </p><p>Law glanced again at the vital signs Scan. 90 mmHg systolic and 70 mmHg diastolic. </p><p> </p><p>“Two milligrams of epinephrine.”</p><p> </p><p>“Not one milligram?” Dabi asked, surprised. “Isn’t that shit dangerous?”</p><p> </p><p>Law looked the patient over. About 1.8 meters tall and well-muscled, which put his weight at somewhere over 50 kilograms. </p><p> </p><p>“He can handle two milligrams.” The patient’s blood pressure needs to increase otherwise their oxygen saturation will never rise to acceptable levels. </p><p> </p><p>“...Sure, whatever you say, doc.” Dabi took out another ampule of the chemical and filled the barrel of the syringe, all the while muttering that <em> Natsuo’s epipens never had more than one milligram of adrenaline in it.  </em></p><p> </p><p>“The patient also has more mass than your little brother, Dabi-ya,” Law replied absent-mindedly as he inserted the needle into the patient’s thigh and pushed down the plunger. “Give me another biohazard bag.”</p><p> </p><p>Now that the hemorrhage had been stopped, Law drained all of the excess fluid and pulled it into the bag, sealed it, and threw it over his shoulder. </p><p> </p><p>He didn’t bother reattaching the section of pleural membrane that he had removed earlier. Although the lung would stay collapsed, there was also no chance that the pneumothorax would develop into a tension pneumothorax if there was an outlet for the air to escape. The patient could survive on one lung and the ventilator until Law could offer better options.</p><p> </p><p>Law placed the heart back into the patient’s chest cavity, though he left the lungs outside for easier monitoring. He canceled the magnification and did another Scan. All of the immediate life-threatening conditions have been resolved. All that was left was the broken wrist.</p><p> </p><p>He made an incision in the patient’s wrist. Reconnecting the lacerated artery was easy enough. Setting the bone was not.</p><p> </p><p>Again, an equipment problem.</p><p> </p><p>Dabi looked slightly queasy as Law brought out the tub of rods, pins, and other external fixation devices. </p><p> </p><p>“No matter how many times you do this, I don’t think I’ll ever get used to this shit,” Dabi said, his face slightly green. </p><p> </p><p>Law looked up from where he was inserting the pins into the patient’s radius and metacarpal bones. “This is the most efficient immobilization option. It’s too expensive for us to keep buying internal fixation devices and the pins can be reused--”</p><p> </p><p>“Yeah, but sticking metal pins into your bones?” Dabi interrupted. “I don’t know…”</p><p> </p><p>“My quirk makes sure that the patient wouldn’t be in pain.”</p><p> </p><p>“Ugh, that’s not the fucking point, it’s--”</p><p> </p><p>Law glares and Dabi visibly scrambles to backtrack. “I get why you’re doing this and the patient’s okay, but--”</p><p> </p><p>“Shut up.”</p><p> </p><p>“Shutting up.” </p><p> </p><p>Law finished clamping all of the pins to a rod and took a step back to look at his work. He glanced at the vital signs Scan. Blood pressure was close to normal. Oxygen saturation was still slightly low but rising. </p><p> </p><p>He canceled the Room and felt a wave of exhaustion. There was a lawn chair that he’d placed in the corner of the operating room and he sat in it heavily. Leaning back, he brought his arm in front of his eyes to block out the bright fluorescent lights.</p><p> </p><p>The other day, a woman had walked into the clinic with a broken finger. It would have been a better choice to set the bone internally with a stainless steel plate, but he didn’t have funds to buy the equipment. </p><p> </p><p>Well, that wasn’t quite true. He had the cash, enough cash for the two of them (and the cat) to live quite comfortably several lifetimes over, but no means to use that cash to buy medical equipment without seeming suspicious.</p><p> </p><p>“Everything’s so expensive.”</p><p> </p><p>Dabi sighed. “Poverty’s a bitch.”</p><p> </p><p>“Agreed.” The Polar Tang submarine had state of the art monitoring and operating equipment and Law missed those facilities so much.</p><p> </p><p>“Is it over?”</p><p> </p><p>He didn’t want to get up. “We still need to clean up and begin postoperative care.”</p><p> </p><p>“Right.” Dabi walked over to pick up a biohazard bag that had landed depressingly far from the trash bin and grimaced. “Law. Couldn’t you even <em> try </em> to fucking aim these things?”</p><p> </p><p>Law ignored that comment. </p><p> </p><p>Sterile bandages were placed over the surgical wounds, hopefully reducing the risk of surgical site infections. There was another round of cleaning and disinfecting the instruments. All of the tools in the operating room were reorganized by order of importance. Dabi took out the trash and dumped it in the usual place where Law would later take it to the nearby hospital to dispose of it in their incinerator. </p><p> </p><p>Once everything was good and well and shiny, Law created a bigger Room than the last one and used Takt to move the patient (along with the ventilator and the blood transfusion rack) to room 201. It was possibly the nicest apartment in the entire building (and by nice, he meant that it received the most sunlight), and Law figured that the patient could use something nice after the shitty morning that he had. </p><p> </p><p>After they finally got the patient situated, changed him out of the black jumpsuit, and cleaned him, Law sat down heavily as the full brunt of the exhaustion finally caught up. His brain was still running, trying to calculate the exact mixture of painkillers, antibiotics, and anticoagulants to administer. </p><p> </p><p>The room was silent except for the whooshing and clicking of the ventilator. Law sat there, staring at the patient while debating the merits of using aspirin vs heparin. He then decided that it could wait after he took a thirty minute nap. All of the urgent work was finished anyway.</p><p> </p><p>Then, Dabi opened his mouth and said, “Hey, isn’t the other guy still cubed outside?”</p><p> </p><p>…Right, there was still that.</p><p> </p><p>"Also, I'm hungry."</p><p> </p><p>Law's plans of taking a nap suddenly disappeared out the window.</p><p><br/>
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</p><p>OMAKE 1:</p><p>DELETED SCENE: THE TEMPERATURE INCIDENT</p><p><br/>
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</p><p>“Dabi-ya, aside from some nutritional deficiencies and your burns, you’re very healthy. I noticed that your temperature is slightly low during your surgery, nearing the hypothermia range actually, but I assume that it’s due to your quirk?”</p><p> </p><p>Dabi shook his head. “No--”</p><p> </p><p>“Then what is it?” Law asked with a frown. He reached for the thermometer gun and pointed it at Dabi’s forehead. “Please understand that I need accurate information to form a medical profile as it is very likely that you’ll be a long-term patien--”</p><p> </p><p>Law froze, staring at the number on the blue digital screen. He tried again, but the number still left him dumbfounded.</p><p> </p><p>“HOW THE FUCK ARE YOU STILL ALIVE?”</p><p> </p><p>Dabi laughed awkwardly. “It’s always been like this--”</p><p> </p><p>“FORTY DEGREES CELSIUS! <em> FORTY DEGREES </em> ! YOU SHOULD BE LYING IN THE HOSPITAL WITH <em> ORGAN FAILURE </em>--”</p><p><br/>
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</p><p>OMAKE 2:</p><p><br/>
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</p><p>“Hey, did you hear about that doctor?”</p><p> </p><p>“That new one in Kamino? Yeah, what about him?”</p><p> </p><p>“I heard from my partner’s sister’s friend’s grandfather that this guy is fucking <em> good </em>.”</p><p>“Oh yeah? Well Ujiko’s a good doctor too, but that son of a bitch’s, like, a total creep.”</p><p> </p><p>“No, this one is way better than Ujiko. Like I said, my partner’s--”</p><p> </p><p>“Yeah, I get it. You’re talking about that old man, the one that was in the yakuza. Get on with it.”</p><p> </p><p>“Okay, <em> that old man </em> said that this new guy is fucking <em> insane </em>. Remember that I told you he broke his shinbone?”</p><p> </p><p>“Yeah, you repeated that story way too many times for someone who wasn’t there.”</p><p> </p><p>“But you can’t tell me it wasn’t ironic. Anyway, the old man doesn’t have insurance, so his son took him to this clinic that he heard rave reviews about from the grapevine.”</p><p> </p><p>“It’s that doctor’s clinic?”</p><p> </p><p>“It’s that doctor’s clinic. The old man was really tight-lipped about the whole process, so I asked his son--”</p><p> </p><p>“The yakuza head?”</p><p> </p><p>“Yeah, that son. Stop interrupting me, will you? So <em> he </em> said that the doctor fixed it in twenty minutes. <em> Twenty fucking minutes </em>.”</p><p> </p><p>“<em> Twenty minutes </em>?”</p><p> </p><p>“Mmhm. And you know what was totally broken?”</p><p> </p><p>“What? The leg?”</p><p> </p><p>“Huh? No! Just, play along for a second okay?”</p><p> </p><p>“Fine. What was broken? Besides the leg of course.”</p><p> </p><p>“<em> The doctor didn’t ask for a single goddamned penny. </em>”</p><p> </p><p>“...”</p><p> </p><p>“...” </p><p> </p><p>“You’re fucking joking with me right? Don’t you know how much underground doctors charge? Especially the good ones?”</p><p> </p><p>“Yeah. I didn’t believe it either. But you know how that whole family gets about honor and shit, so it’s probably not a lie. According to him, all he had on hand was a bag of cucumbers, so he gave that to the old man to give to the doctor as a placeholder until he could gather the cash. And do you know what happened when he got back?”</p><p> </p><p>“Hit me with it.”</p><p> </p><p>“He got back with a suitcase full of cash, and he said that there was a blue bubble surrounding the place -- dunno what it is, must be the doctor’s quirk. The doctor was standing on the front step with the old man floating beside him. So he offered the cash, y’know, like how you would deal with other underground doctors, and the doctor refused it! Point blank! Said he only needed the cucumbers and a follow up trip to remove the cast and splint, then went into this whole rant about what the old man can do and what not to do.”</p><p> </p><p>“Fucking wild.”</p><p> </p><p>“I know, right?”</p><p> </p><p>“And then what happened?”</p><p> </p><p>“I’m not really sure.”<br/>
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</p><p>“Well that was useless.”</p><p> </p><p>“Hey! I’m not really sure, but what I <em> think </em> happened was that the old man’s son - you know, the yakuza head - tried to give the money anyway--”</p><p> </p><p>“Following the Iron Rule of Doctors--”</p><p> </p><p>“Exactly. So he tried to give it anyway, but the doctor got all offended or some shit and booted them both out.”</p><p> </p><p>“But wait, isn’t Shie Hassaikai one of the stronger groups? The boss wouldn’t go anywhere without a chauffeur or an escort or something.”</p><p> </p><p>“Yeah, but the doctor booted them out anyway, so he must be <em> really </em>fucking strong.”</p><p> </p><p>“This doctor almost sounds way too good to be true.”</p><p> </p><p>“It came from the old man, so you know it’s credible.”</p><p> </p><p>“...”</p><p> </p><p>“...”</p><p> </p><p>“Haish, the old man doesn’t have many years left even before this accident.”</p><p> </p><p>“But a year ago, he got to hold his great-granddaughter <em> and </em> celebrate his hundredth birthday. He lived a really full life. I’m kind of envious actually.”</p><p> </p><p>“True, true. ‘Specially since you’re nearing your thirtieth birthday and still haven’t got no girlfriend yet.”</p><p> </p><p>“OI!”</p><p><br/>
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</p><p>OMAKE 3:</p><p><br/>
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</p><p>“<em> After wreaking an untold amount of damage, the villain in Kamino Ward has been apprehended at 7:00 Tokyo time. Heroes Beaming, Death Arms, Gunhead, Alien, Bam, and the Number Seven Hero, Yoroi Musha, arrested the villain and took him into custody of Kamino Ward Number Seven Police Station. Countless rescue heroes, including the Wild Wild Pussycats, No. 13, and the rookie hero, Hawks, also arrived at the scene. More after the commercial break--” </em></p><p> </p><p>The television switched off. The clock read 13:14. Approximately seven hours after Shouta was dispatched to Kamino. Yet, even with increasingly frantic calls to nearly every person in his contacts list, no hide nor hair of him had been seen. </p><p> </p><p>Yamada Hizashi put his head in his hands.</p><p> </p><p>The rug in their shared apartment had migrated across the floor, Hizashi’s manic energy and worry seemingly giving it invisible feet. Even the cats had sensed something wrong; Latte, Chai, and Espresso wedged themselves in their bed, not even a toe straying outside, while Dango had planted himself in front of the door and stared.</p><p> </p><p>Not even his tail had twitched in the past five hours.</p><p> </p><p>His hand reached up to tug at his hair as Hizashi looked at the last name in his contacts list. He wouldn’t normally call them, as heaven knows he owed them too many favors to count already, but extenuating circumstances called for desperate measures and desperate measures meant undertaking risks. </p><p> </p><p>He pressed the name and listened to the <em> beep beep beeping </em> of the machine, praying that the person on the other end of the line wouldn’t be too busy to pick up. </p><p> </p><p>And then a click.</p><p> </p><p>“<em> Hello, this is Principal Nezu of UA High School. How may I help you?” </em></p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>Um, first of all, a heads up. I'm an armchair doctor. I don't have medical training or medical knowledge before writing this, hell, I've never even watched a medical drama. I knew jack shit. One of the reasons why this chapter was posted so late was because I was agonizing over the accuracy of the surgery scene. This was formulated with the help of Master Google, extensive lurking on Quora, and reading through NCBI articles until my eyes hurt from all of the tiny text. If I got something wrong, please tell me. One of the commenters last chapter (you know who you are) was nice enough to tell me that I was using the terminology for burn wounds wrong. I fixed it and thank you so very much.</p><p>Aizawa in this chapter is sleep-deprived. We do stupid shit when we're sleep-deprived. In my experience, sleep-deprived persons are generally a mix of three categories: manic, grumpy, and drunk. I think sleep-deprived Aizawa would be grumpy and a bit drunk, based on his canon reactions to class 1a's shenanigans. So, yeah. Normally, he would definitely be able to chase the villain down, but he's exhausted and he sort of overestimated himself.</p><p>I also put a lot of my headcanons in this chapter. </p><p>First of all, I think that it is very unlikely that Law didn't have any sort of trauma after experiencing Flevance and the whole situation after with Doflamingo. In my mind, I think he kind of just buried the memories down and ignored them. It helps that the whole OP world is chaotic enough that just surviving every day is a struggle. But now that Law is dropped into BNHA at a time where it is still (somewhat) peaceful? Bam. He has to confront his past again.</p><p>About the Naruto bit. Law is a ninja and comic nerd. Nuff said.</p><p>Also, the Ope Ope no Mi. Whoo boy, the Ope Ope no Mi. Every single devil fruit changes the composition of the user's body, even if it's not very apparent. I think that the Ope Ope no Mi mostly changed Law's brain. His mind could now multitask effectively and process huge amounts of data. So his powers are not limited by how much stuff there is, it's limited by how complex an action he wants to do with said stuff. He wants to cut up a ship and turn it into modern art? Simple, he just needs to move all of the molecules and such. He wants to disinfect the room? Simple, he just needs to find every single pathogen with the help of Scan and move them to another place. But something like the Perennial Youth Operation? To combat aging, he needs to program the blueprint of an enzyme called telomerase into the target's DNA. Then, he needs to code in failsafes so that cell division doesn't go out of control and turn the target into a mutated blob. But what if the target had genetic diseases? Law needs to go through their DNA, find the part that has the genetic disease, reprogram it, and so on. Then take into account that each cell has 92 strands of DNA and your body has a few hundred trillion cells and voila. One dead Ope Ope no Mi user due to the sheer complexity of the task.</p><p>That was a bit morbid. But yeah.</p><p>The chapter also introduces Law's money problem. Right now, he has cash. Like, a lot of cash. Civilian items and weapons are probably readily available through brokers like Giran, but medical equipment? Sure, Law could probably get them in the black market too, but he has standards. He's not going to get anything that has a slight chance of malfunctioning. So, right now he's relying on his powers and buying anything that his powers can't replicate online through the use of paypal giftcards or something similar on legitimate websites. And eBay. You can buy anything on eBay. I actually scrolled through it and saw this dude selling a really sweet operating table for $120. But gigantic monitoring devices? Surgical instruments that are not the most basic scalpel, forceps, cautery, and such (like heart-lung machines and the aforementioned drainage system)? Yeah, he's out of luck.</p><p>And lastly, Dabi's quirk. I think that Dabi also has two quirks, just not split as evenly as Shouto Todoroki's. He has to have something protecting his internal organs, otherwise he will roast himself (more so than he does already) every time he uses his powers. Assuming that he inherited an ice-proof constitution from his mother, I think his ice powers are mostly concentrated around his heart, lungs, brain, and such, and less so his skin, though his skin also has some degree of protection otherwise his scarring would be a lot worse than they were. I never really understood why other fanfiction writers just made Dabi ice proof with fire powers. If it were just that, Dabi would be dead because the temperature of blue fire is hotter than the temperatures in a crematorium. That said, that's why Dabi has a fluctuating core temperature: his ice powers are more apparent when he's unconscious.</p><p>I ran out of characters. But thank you for reading this far :)<br/>Stay safe<br/>~eatP1</p>
        </blockquote><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>Hi peoples</p><p>The MC of this fanfiction is Trafalgar Law. To me, Law is a character that has a lot of untapped potential and the one that I can relate to the most in the One Piece universe.</p><p>Law is going to meet and interact with a lot of different characters before the actual plot picks up. Everything is to lay a groundwork for future development. If any of the characterization seems off, constructive criticism is greatly welcomed and appreciated. Feel free to go wild.</p><p>Stay safe everyone!<br/>~eatP1</p></blockquote></div></div>
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